Dr Sexy PhD
by planiforidjit
Summary: Destiel AU. Dean is a film professor at the University of New Hampshire. On his first day of classes he is not only royally hungover, but he's being forced to share an office with a sexy new professor, Dr. Castiel Novak. To make things worse Sam is Castiel's TA and Sam has made a strict no seducing his professors rule. Rated M for language and sexy times.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter One (or that one time Dean puked in front of everyone and met a hot guy)

Dean's first lecture of the new year is in twenty minutes and he still isn't dressed. He's hungover as fuck. Clothing seems like a bad option, moving even worse. He's so hungover he doesn't even remember going out the night before. He doesn't even know how he could do that. Why would he ever be so stupid? He doesn't even have his list of students at home so he can email them.

Dean gets dressed quickly and looks in the mirror. His gray herringbone suit doesn't look as good as it normally does. Bobby, his tabby cat, is looking up at him. It's a judgmental look.

He shouldn't be allowed to have pets, he realizes as he yells at the animal to "Get the fuck away before I skin you!"

Even on his worst day he doesn't look so bad, but he's a little bloated and his green eyes are rimmed with red. He's kind of got a sexy purposefully disheveled thing going on if he lies to himself. Maybe his students will think it's cool to have a drunk for a professor.

His goddamn TA, Garth, is standing in the doorway to the classroom. His students have only been waiting for a few minutes. Garth has these giant, slightly scared eyes. He might be stoned. Dean can never be sure. Part of him doesn't really like the kid and then another part of him kinda loves him. He's the best TA Dean's ever had, so he keeps him around.

"You look hurt, man," Garth says, shaking his head.

Dean groans, "Shut the hell up."

He walks into the lecture hall and looks out at the faces of 150 bored freshmen. It's a stupid survey class to fulfill the arts credit the school requires. Kids take film because they think all they have to do is watch movies. Dean usually likes to fuck with them, but he needs to vomit. He needs to vomit like now and the only thing he has time to puke in is his brand new leather briefcase. He can't even make it to the trashcan.

"Jesus," Garth shouts as Dean empties whiskey and pie and burgers into his bag, effectively ruining his notebooks, DVDs, and a library book.

"Oh god I'm dying," Dean groans. "This is bad, this is very bad."

"Professor," Garth says, trying to sound like a professional in front of the students.

"Garth," Dean groans and another wave of food comes up. "Jesus fucking christ. How much did I eat? Garth, you idiot, pass out the syllabus and tell them all to fuck off until next class."

Dean runs out of the room, dumping his ruined briefcase into a trashcan and leaving his TA alone with 150 bewildered students.

#

Dean gets to the bathroom and gets it out of his system. He swishes some water around in his mouth and pops in a stick of gum. He goes back to his office. He probably has a toothbrush in there that he put away for one night stands or like late afternoon fucks. Sometimes you just need to get that out of your system and there's some hot young thing working at the library. When he gets to his office his door is propped open and he notices that there's a new plaque on the door under the one that's said his name for five years now.

Another desk has been shoved into the room, covering up some of Dean's favorite old movie posters. There's a new bookcase now too, covered in what looks like god bullshit and Dean really doesn't want anything to do with that. There's a man in a brow tweed suit with elbow patches sitting at the new desk, writing furiously into a notebook. He has tons of papers on his desk already and Dean's pretty sure that the desk wasn't there a week ago, or even a few days ago.

Dean clears his throat and the man turns. He has wide, almost ridiculously blue eyes. So blue that they make Dean feel embarrassed for one of the few times in his life. He never blushes. He puked in front of his class ten minutes ago and he manned up after that one. Now he's blushing. This guy's stupid blue eyes and pretty pink lips, that light shade of pink like roses or some shit, make Dean feel bad for being so hungover. He's so angry that he's practically sweating whiskey out and he probably smells and he doesn't look at all professional because he's ditched his briefcase and his hair isn't looking as good as it normally does.

"Hello, Dean," the man says like they've met before.

"Guess you already know my name then," Dean says with an awkward laugh as he sits down at his desk and grabs a bottle of water from the mini fridge.

"It's on the door," the man says.

"Oh," Dean says, sipping the water slowly. The last thing he needs is a fit of dry heaving. "Sorry. I didn't get yours."

"Castiel," he says. Dean's not sure if this is a first name or a last name. Either way, it's a weird fucking name. "I teach theology."

"Film," Dean says. "Why would they put us together?"

Castiel shrugs his thin shoulders, "Two useless degrees."

"Two useless professors." Dean smiles. People like his smile; it makes the corner of his eyes crinkle. Castiel continues looking at him like he's confused. Either it's not working because of the hangover or Castiel isn't interested. Either way Dean is disappointed. "So, Castiel a first name or a last name?"

Castiel shrugs again, "It's my first name. My last name is Novak and I think people call me Dr. Novak around here. Since we are to be sharing this office, I think Castiel...or Cas would be acceptable. I don't have a preference. Should I call you Dr. Winchester?"

"No," Dean says. "Cas. That's cool. People call you Cassie?"

"My brothers," he says and looks a little angry so Dean decides to leave that one alone.

"So theology," Dean says. "My little brother's getting his doctorate in theology right now."

"I know," Cas says. His voice is as deep as Dean's is and Dean feels like he needs to overcompensate. Their voices keep getting deeper as the conversation keeps going. "Sam Winchester. He's my TA for my three introductory classes."

"Oh," Dean says. "We live together and he still doesn't tell me this stuff. Crazy. Those introductory courses are the worst though. You'll get less eventually. I'm only down to one."

"It's not so bad. It's easier to get into things. They seem nice so far."

"I just booted in front of mine," Dean says.

He doesn't know why he's saying it. Maybe to prove to Cas that he doesn't care that Cas doesn't find his eye crinkling smile sexy. He doesn't need him to do that. Plenty of other sexy men and ladies would be all over that crinkle.

Cas lets out a nervous laugh, "Off to a rocky start."

"Yeah. I'm one those professors you shouldn't model yourself after."

"You have no idea," comes an exasperated but affectionate voice from the door.

""Sup broski," Dean says, looking at his younger brother, filling the doorway.

Sam lets himself into the room, ducking a little in the doorway. His head probably wouldn't hit the top of the door frame if he walked through it, but he doesn't want to take any chances.

"Hey," Sam says, pushing his ridiculous mane of hair behind his ears. "Garth told me you puked in front of your first class. Real classy, Dean."

"I don't know if I approve of you talking to Garth."

"He's a good guy. And he hasn't puked in front of any students yet."

Dean shrugs, "Give him time. Anyway, I'm sick."

"Hungover," Sam says, with a disapproving pinch of his lips. He turns to Cas and smiles. "Dr. Novak. Did you want to go over your class lists?"

"Yes," Cas says, standing up and gathering his papers together. "We can relocate to the library or—."

"Don't worry about it," Dean says. "I have to go buy a new briefcase and get my shit together for my next two classes. See you at home, Sammy."

Sam waves him away without saying anything else. Dean tries not to make a big show out of watching Cas when he leaves. He can't help it. He doesn't really know what to say to him. So he just mumbles a, "see you around, man," and hurries out of the door.

#

Dean has two afternoon classes back to back: American Noire of the 1930s and 40s, then a history of horror films. They're both done by six and he's out of the school, stopped at the store for some beer and chips, and home by 6:45. His last two classes were good. He likes those kids. He's had some of them all four years that they've been there and they've bonded in a weird teacher-student way where they're still a little scared of him and he kind of hates them sometimes. They make ending his day on a good note easier. But really, it's not that hard to be a step up from the beginning note. He gets to sit on the couch and watch football with his beer and snacks and the goddamn cat curled up next to him. He likes to keep his hand on Bobby's head, scratching just behind his little ear as they watch TV.

It's all perfect and calm and Dean can compose himself so that the rest of the semester goes off without a hitch, but then Sammy walks in with Cas trailing behind him. He's wearing a tan trench coat over his tweed suit and Dean bets he's pretty hot with all those layers. Then his brain goes quickly to what must be underneath those layers.

"I brought Dr. Novak," Sam says before Dean's brain can get too far.

"Apparently the library here closes early the first week," Cas says.

"Yeah, we didn't quite finish hashing things out, so I figured we could come back here and finish up. Would you like a beer, Dr. Novak?"

"Uhm," Cas says and looks to Dean who gives him a you-might-as-well look. "Yes. I guess so. And you may call me Cas as well, Sam. It would be unnecessarily formal for you to continue calling me Dr. Novak."

Dean feels a strong urge to roll his eyes. Unnecessarily formal has come and gone at this point.

"Will do. Dean?" Sam asks.

"You know it," Dean says. He stares adamantly at his brother's retreating back instead of watching Cas sit down on the other side of the couch.

Cas's hand reaches out to pet Bobby just as Dean is doing them same and their fingers touch. Dean pulls his hand away quickly.

"I apologize," Castiel says.

"No problem," Dean says. Seriously, brushing hands? They might as well be twelve. Maybe it's the formality. Maybe it's that he's really worried about getting hard, which is probably not actually reducing the probability of that. "How'd your classes go?"

Cas nods, "Well. It will be an interesting semester. I still have two that I haven't met yet."

"Same. How many classes do you have?"

"Six. What about you?"

"Just five," Dean says. "So is this your first year teaching?"

"I taught a couple of years at Harvard after I graduated. It's part of the grad program. But I needed to move away from, uh, everyone."

"Yeah," Dean says. "I'm not a big city fan myself. I get really overwhelmed really quickly."

"Where'd you get your degree?"

"Iowa."

"Is it strange to be in New England after that?"

Dean shrugs, "No. I like it here."

He watches as his brother comes into the room with beers and hands them out. He can't help how his breath hitches when Cas brings the bottle to his lips.

"It's good to be with Sammy too," Dean says. "We're a package deal, you know."

"We're all the family we have," Sam explains, looking to Dean. "It's been like that for a while. We like to stick together. It was pretty convenient that we both wandered here to Portsmouth."

"There's a ton of us," Cas says and doesn't say anything else about his family for the rest of the night.

They keep it to small talk. Dean tries his hardest not to stare at Castiel the entire time, but he can't help it. Sam is really the one who ends up talking and shooting Dean angry glares. Dean can't fuck Sam's professors, which was a rule established as a condition of Sam coming to study here so they could be closer together. Still, Sam should know better than to bring his attractive professors _home_ with him. There was only so much a guy could do.

Dean's a little more worried about how he's going to handle sharing an office with this guy. Dean's going to have to see him every time he goes into school. Four days a week he'll have to see this guy. He'll have to think about the stubble on his jaw and how it would feel scraping across his face or his stupid long fingers that Dean kind of wants all over himself. This stupid man who doesn't even care about how attractive Dean is, apparently. And he's sitting on the couch and Dean knows without a doubt that he's probably going to see this man every day until one of them gets another job or Dean screws it all up.

Sam has worked up an almighty bitchface by the time Cas leaves, awkwardly shaking both of their hands in farewell. Dean can feel the lecture coming and busies himself with collecting the beer bottles and taking them to the kitchen. He is very carefully rinsing them out and very carefully ignoring his hulking brother in the doorway when Sam finally cracks.

"So," he says, with his unnerving ability to pack a week's worth of guilt into one word. "You were quiet."

Dean shrugs nonchalantly. "Long day."

"Really? Trying to control your libido tire you out?"

"Wha—Sammy, come on—."

"Dean, you know the rules! No seducing my professors. _Especially_ not my mentor professor." Sam is really in the zone now, and continues at breakneck speed. "It threatens to delegitimize my studies. You becoming… _involved_ with my professor creates a clear conflict of interest and I am not going to let you waste my time like that."

Dean holds up his hands in a gesture of innocence. "Holy shit, Sammy. I didn't even do anything."

Dean is nearly blinded by the force of the bitchface. "Dean if I had a dollar for every minute you spent staring at his crotch—"

"In order to know I was staring at his crotch you would have to be looking too, Sammy, so maybe you should check yourself before you wreck yourself."

"Dean!"

Dean returns his brother's glare. "I'm sorry, am I getting in trouble for being too quiet? Because that's what it feels like. I guess I could ramble on about myself at length for no apparent reason but that seemed a little—hm, what's the word, ridiculous."

Sam scowls darkly at him. "No flirting with Dr. Novak," he says.

Dean knows he shouldn't needle his brother, but he can't resist it. "Well, now, Sammy, I'm a pretty charming guy, and we are in pretty tight quarters. I can't be held accountable if your professor throws himself at me."

Sam grinds his teeth together and stomps out of the kitchen, knowing better than to engage with Dean when he's being childish. Which is probably more often than Dean would like to admit.


	2. Chapter 2

Dr. Castiel Novak rises early most mornings. He goes for a short run before showering and sitting down for a leisurely breakfast with plenty of time before he really has to get ready to head to the office. It's only about twenty minutes to the university from his apartment, and his first class isn't for a few hours yet.

Cas enjoys the sense of control and regularity that his schedule gives him. After a childhood in a chaotic house of five children, with close cousins often swelling the numbers into the teens, the ability to spend a half hour lingering over the paper with a cup of tea is luxurious to him. Quiet and solitude were rare commodities in his family's house.

That probably explains why he actually enjoys living alone, especially in a small city like Portsmouth. It's about as close to rural as his family will allow him to get without a fight. Coming out when he was in college was met with general indifference and a vaguely confused supportive attitude, but he suspects that if he tried to move more than fifty miles away that someone (probably Gabriel, possibly Anna) would be dispatched to drag him back home.

He wished that work held the same opportunity for quiet and solitude. If he was honest with himself, that was really why he pursued academia in the first place—the opportunity to bury himself in books and words. As a low-level professor he is used to sharing office space, but Dean Winchester is an unusually distracting office mate, with his lop-sided smile and bright hazel eyes. Beyond his physical assets, though, is the fascinating mix of boisterous optimism and bitter self-deprecation that piques Cas's interest. The fact that Sam is Dean's brother didn't particularly help. Cas wants to focus on their classes and helping Sam with his research, but is itching to interrogate his TA about his childhood in general and his brother in particular.

Cas sighs, thoroughly perturbed by his distraction at the mere thought of Dean Winchester, and finishes his breakfast quickly. Maybe if he gets to the university early enough he can lose himself in his research instead of daydreaming about complicating his life any further.

#

"So, Sammy, how's work going?"

It's about a week after the briefcase fiasco, and Dean is horny as hell and pissed that Sammy is cockblocking him with his thesis or whatever bull. Dean figures he has a good excuse to annoy his brother, overall.

Sam is instantly suspicious. He can tell the difference between Dean's genuine interest in his life and vague, leading questions.

"Why?"

Sam can be subtle and artful when he has to be, but by now he rarely is with Dean. Maybe when they were kids, when they were both trained to avoid the obvious problems in their lives, but now they're adults. Not that Dean ever acts like one. Now he lets loose with his brother and barrels into questions with similar abandon.

Dean groans and slaps down a bill to pay for their coffees. He's headed to his third survey class (he even made it through the last one without puking) and Sam is heading in to the library for research or whatever it is that theologians do for fun.

"I can't ask questions about your life? Jesus, Sam, I'm just curious. Can you stop with your hyper paranoid shit? I'm seriously sick of it."

"And I'm sick of this crush you have on Dr. Novak. I told you—"

"Sam, seriously? I've barely been in my office because if I'm closer than five feet—which, by the way, would require me to stand on my desk with my balls to the wall —to your professor I can feel your disdain gnawing away at my soul. If I didn't know you better I would guess that you had a thing for him."

"That's called displacement, Dean."

"Bitch, you are a theology student, not a psych major."

"Whatever, Dean! You promised when I agreed to come here for my doctorate."

"And now you're doubting me. Honestly, Sam, I'm hurt."

He's joking around, but seriously he's kicking himself for ever agreeing to that ridiculous rule. Maybe it's just the close quarters, but Dean is slowly becoming enamored of all of Cas's idiosyncrasies and it's making him feel half like a Hallmark card and half like he really wants Cas to bend him over his desk and fuck his brains out. And Dean knows that neither the gooey Hallmark version nor the sweaty X-rated version is going to fly with Sam.

#

Dean is hoping that Cas is out of the office by the time he gets Sam off his back and into the library, but there is no such luck. Cas is carefully reviewing notes and referring to his dog-eared text, occasionally running a hand through his dark hair, if its disheveled state is anything to go by.

Dean has to silently scold himself for thinking about Cas's hair.

"Hello, Dean," Cas says with barely a glance up from his work.

"Hey, Cas." He pauses awkwardly in the doorway, clutching the significantly cheaper replacement briefcase in his hand until the other man glances up at him curiously. He clears his throat and awkwardly crosses to his desk. "So, how has your first week been?"

"Stressful but fairly uneventful, I suppose." Dean leans against his desk, a crooked smile playing across his features.

"Let me guess, you're one of those professors that can't sleep the night before the first lecture of the semester?"

Cas swivels his chair around, looking sheepish. "I worry about embarrassing myself."

"I have a tip. Puke in front of a class and then you will literally never be embarrassed by anything ever again."

"Strangely I don't think that would make me feel any better."

"Well then maybe just remember that I've done it, and then you'll realize that you can never be a worse professor than me."

Cas frowns slightly. "I'm sure you're an excellent professor, Dean. You certainly seem knowledgeable about your subject. And your TA clearly admires you."

Dean rolls his eyes. "I don't think Garth is the best judge of character."

"Your brother speaks highly of you," he says quietly.

That stops Dean's wisecracking. "Well, that's...he's my brother," he sputters.

"In my experience, that does not guarantee the kind of warmth and pride evident in your brother's demeanor when he talks about you."

Well, whatever their childhood was lacking, love was really never missing. Dean wonders briefly whether it was missing from Cas's childhood, then steers himself away from the 'sorry your childhood sucked' section of his Hallmark half.

"Well don't hold it against him," he says lightly. "Other than that he's a pretty smart kid."

Cas considers him steadily, but merely says, "Yes, he is very intelligent."

The way those blue eyes bore into him are very unnerving, Dean decides. It's worse that he can feel the gaps between himself and his self-deprecating humor when Cas looks at him like that. He busies himself with his papers, trying to shake that feeling off.

"I must confess, I am at a loss as to what exactly you teach in your classes," Cas says finally. Dean wonders if he was going to say something else. Chick flick crap Dean didn't want to deal with.

"Don't worry, I don't know how you guys talk about God so much without a megachurch or a televangelism routine. Fair's fair."

"Many of the theology majors I have met recently seem to be agnostic or atheistic. Most academics view it primarily as a vital tool with which to examine history and society rather than a roadmap for life."

"And the ones who view it primarily as a roadmap?"

"Are probably Jesuits," Cas finishes automatically, smiling slightly. "Although maybe they would view them as equal purposes."

Dean snorts. "Obscure Catholic joke, there, Cas. You're lucky our dad taught at a Jesuit university for a few years."

"Where?"

"Loyola, in Maryland."

"An excellent school. How long was he there?"

"A few years. I don't remember exactly."

A total lie. They were there for about two years before John lost his bid for tenure there. Something about drunkenly berating his department chair. At two in the afternoon. In front of students. Apparently that doesn't go over well in academia. It was rough trying to keep positions after that.

Cas mercifully changes the subject. "Perhaps that is where Sam's fascination with the divine came from." He laughs softly, "It brings to mind the image of Christ discussing the torah with the rabbis as a child."

"Yeah, Sammy's totally a Jesus figure. Especially with that hair." Dean shrugs. "Maybe it did inspire him. He was only ten or so." He turns to Cas. "What made you decide to study theology?"

The question catches the other man off guard. "I suppose I was looking for a roadmap at first. But what I found was much more rewarding than a roadmap."

Dean pauses. "Well shit, now I feel inadequate. Films were just the thing I could stand analyzing for the rest of my life."

Cas smiles easily. "Analysis implies that you find meaning in them. I don't think that should make you feel inadequate."

"You haven't gotten the awkward smiles after my brother says he's studying theology. 'And what do you study?' 'Oh, I have my doctorate in film, ma'am,'" Dean says, reenacting the usual conversation.

"Surely people are impressed."

"Sure, impressed that I wasted my money on such a ridiculous degree."

Cas shrugs. "It happens with theology as well. The humanities are no longer considered particularly profitable."

"Yeah, but at least you have history backing you up. I have to convince people my degree is a real thing."

"Still, you are gainfully employed, no matter what they say."

Dean snorts. "Yeah, you have a point. It just gets tiring, you know?"

Cas's smile is slightly bitter, and disappears quickly. "I do know. Very well."

Dean knows he touched a nerve, but skirts the awkward silence quickly. He glances at his watch. "Well I gotta run to class and attempt to salvage my professional reputation."

#

Cas nods and smiles shyly in farewell as Dean beats his hasty retreat.

Cas may not be particularly effusive or gregarious, but he is skilled in reading people's body language. He suspects it comes from being the youngest brother in a raucous household that often required delicate maneuverings to avoid fraternal backlash. At any rate, when he meets Sam outside of his second class, the taller man is tense and irritated despite the hours he spent in the library. Cas considers him for a moment before awkwardly beginning, "Sam, you seem—"

"Yeah, Dr. Novak. Sorry, I'd rather not talk about it."

"If you need time to yourself, I don't mind if you are absent for class this afternoon."

Sam gives his professor a tired smile. "I'm good, Cas. I could use the distraction."

Cas returns the smile. "Good, because I could use the assistance, even if I don't necessarily require it."

#

Dean walks in on Cas and Sam working together at the kitchen table. He's not surprised, but for a second he doesn't really know what to do with himself. He puts his bag down and shuts the door slowly behind himself.

Cas looks up from the table and gives Dean a small smile. He wonders if Cas is thinking of their conversation earlier. He wonders if Cas thinks about him when he's not around. He must. Working with Sam would do that, but probably not in the way that Dean wants.

"Hey," Dean says, taking off his jacket and throwing it onto the couch. "What are you two nerds up to?"

"Research," Cas says, nodding to Sam's laptop.

"Fun," Dean goes to the fridge, scooting by Cas and Sam.

Cas bends his neck to scribble something on a legal pad with a pen that looks like it cost more than Dean's TV and it's a nice TV. Dean wets his suddenly chapped lips at the sight of exposed skin between Cas's hair and the collar of his light blue button down. Dean has to close his eyes and force away the image of planting a kiss there. Luckily, when he opens his eyes, Sammy is glaring at him so intently that Dean thinks his little brother might be trying to set him on fire with his mind.

Dean grabs a beer from the fridge and leans against the counter, "Do you guys mind if I watch Double Indemnity? We're analyzing it tomorrow in class and I should probably watch it once more before I try to teach it."

"Are you reading the novel as well?" Cas asks, turning a little in his seat to look at Dean. Sam lets out a yawn and shuts his computer, recognizing that research time is probably over now that Dean's here.

"I gave them a passage of it," Dean says. "They're supposed to read that and then watch it on their own and we're just going to focus on a couple of scenes tomorrow in class, but we'll see how that goes."

"Do they not normally do their classwork?" Cas asks.

"They've gone a whole summer without me," Dean says, taking a smug sip of his beer. "They've forgotten what a hard ass I am, so I'm guessing they're going to see how much they can get away with."

Sam rolls his eyes, "I'm pretty sure that to be a hard ass you'd have to do a little bit more work."

"I'm going to do work right now, bro."

"You've had these students before?" Cas asks.

"Yeah," Dean says. "I'm actually advising a few of them. I've had almost everyone in the class at least twice. They're all majors."

"It must be nice to have a relationship already built with your students."

"You'll get there, buddy," Dean finds himself smiling. He covers it up with a gulp of beer quickly. "Anyway, I'm going to go watch the movie. You guys want to join?"

"I gotta work on a paper," Sam says, standing up.

"I haven't seen the film," Cas says.

"You haven't?" Dean asks. "But you know the book?"

"Oh, yes. It's one of my favorites."

Dean doesn't know what to do, but he knows that sitting down with Cas and watching a movie might be the hardest test of his life. Sam glares at him as he walks into his bedroom. Cas gets himself a beer from the fridge and Dean wants to make a joke about him being a little too comfortable, but it gets caught in his throat. He kind of likes that Cas is comfortable. Cas plops himself down on the couch and gives Dean as shy smile to signal him that he's all set.

Dean puts the DVD in and sits down on the opposite side of the couch. Bobby slinks out of Dean's bedroom probably, though he could have been anywhere, and jumps up next to Cas. Bobby glares at Dean, dares him to give into the temptation.

Dean presses play and focuses on the movie.

#

That night after Cas leaves and Sam lectures him about his habits and track record and the usual stuff, Dean settles in for some "Dean Time." He needs it. He takes off his clothes, leaving them in a pile on the floor and gets into bed and starts lazily stroking himself. It doesn't take much at all. Just the thought of those pink lips wrapped around his thick cock and he's already panting.

He wonders what Cas looks like naked. He's lean, probably has the hips of a god. Cas would touch himself while he sucked Dean off, not too much, though. He'd just get himself good and hard and Dean would come down his throat like he was a fucking virgin. Then Cas would fuck Dean, good and hard and Dean would be ruined for anyone else.

Dean doesn't let himself get off that easy, though. When he feels it building up at the base of his stomach, his balls pulling tighter, he sucks a couple of fingers into his mouth. He could find lube or something, but there isn't enough time. He just needs to get something inside of himself. He licks his fingers, imagining that their Castiel's. He groans around them and pauses. He doesn't want to be too loud. It would be too weird if his brother found him fucking himself on his fingers.

But he doesn't hear anything and he goes back to it. He pulls his digits from his mouth and raises his hips off the bed. He's so happy he has long fingers. It doesn't take much, he needs more, but just the thought of Castiel's cock in his ass is plenty to get off. Two fingers in, fucking himself on them, imagining it's Cas, telling himself in dirty whispers how hard he would let Cas fuck him, his hand wrapped around his cock, moving quickly. And he comes, Castiel's name tumbling over his lips.

Dean stays on his back for a second. He needs to clean up, but not before he catches his breath.

"I'm so fucked," he says to the air.


	3. Chapter 3

"So, who's the new crush?"

Dean looks up from his beer to the busty girl with messy brown hair across the counter. "Excuse me?"

"You only stop pretending to hit on me when you have a crush on someone," she says, leaning on the bar.

Dean flashes her a smile. "Who says I'm pretending?"

She rolls her eyes. "Dean, please. Just because I'm a bar tender doesn't mean I'm an idiot. Remember that time I went to MIT?"

"You got kicked out."

"Still got accepted. Besides, if you don't tell me I'll just bug Sam about it later."

"Ash, I don't want to talk about it."

"One of his professors, then."

Dean groans. "Ash, please."

He's at The Roadhouse, his regular bar for almost the entirety of his last five years in Portsmouth. Probably because Joe, the owner's burly and ridiculously hot son, actually beat Dean to the Swayze jokes when he found out that the new film professor had come by. They may or may not have turned it into a drinking game. Dean may or may not have obsessively shadowed the bar for the next month in the hopes of seducing Joe.

Ashley, resident computer genius and obsessive microbrewer, enjoys reminding the entire patronage about this. Her other hobbies include criticizing music choices by any and all patrons, nagging Ellen about updating the tech around the bar, and telling Dean what to do about his love life. He would never admit it, but she usually has pretty good insights.

Ash rolls her eyes again and pulls two tumblers out from the bar. "Seriously, dude, better out than in." She steps away to pull a few beers, and eventually returns with a bottle of Makers Mark. She pours a healthy double for each of them. "Come on, Dean, spill."

Dean kills his beer and hands the bottle to her. "I don't want to talk about it. It'll all be real if I talk about it."

She grins crookedly and takes a swig of whiskey. "Fine, I'll do it, then. You met one of Sammy's professors and are nursing a stiffy for them. It's natural. No shame in that."

"According to Sam there is. Or I'm going to ruin his life by delegitimizing his studies by becoming 'involved' with his mentor. Something like that." Dean sighs and takes a gulp of his drink, reveling in the smooth burn down his throat.

Ash whistles lowly. "Damn. Novak? I've heard about him. Nice piece of ass."

Dean grimaces, for some reason really bothered by her cavalier banter. "Jesus, why can't you be a normal chick?"

"We all know what boners are."

"I—sorry. Just… he's more than a nice piece of ass."

Ash snorts. "Shit, Dean, you've got it bad. Not even a month and you're already his knight in shining armor, saving his reputation from crude harlots like me?"

Dean glares at her and drinks instead of answering. Joe saves him by coming out of the kitchen bearing Dean's bacon cheeseburger and fries.

"Whiskey," Joe observes as he slides the food in front of Dean. "Must be a new crush. One of Sam's professors?"

"I don't—."

"Not just any professor," Ash says. "Mentor."

"The guy with the weird name? Students seem to like him. Especially the girls." Joe pauses, considering. "Well, especially everyone, really."

Dean gives up and lays his head on the bar. Ash and Joe argue about Dean's chances and plausible timelines for romantic involvement until Ellen shoos them both back to their jobs.

"Gotta admit, kid, it's not looking good right now," she mutters to him as she wipes up a spill nearby.

Dean grimaces and taps the rim of his glass for more whiskey. She grins and pours him another double.

#

_Cas drags his tongue over the taught skin of Dean's stomach. He follows the same path with kisses and nips, marking Dean's flesh as his own. Dean is his and he will know it when he looks in the mirror tomorrow. He'll know it when he sits down at his desk and he's sore. _

_ They're in their office, Dean backed against the bookcase, his pants down around his knees. Cas's knees rest on the itchy carpet and he thinks he might have bruises there later, but he doesn't care. The door to the office is locked, but Dean is whimpering so loudly it probably doesn't matter. _

_ "Fuck, Cas," Dean says, his fingers weaving their way into Cas's hair, messing it up further. _

_ The rough sound of Dean's voice sends a wave of pleasure over Cas. Cas takes a long lick of the underside of Dean's cock, feeling it out with his wide tongue. Dean lets out a groan, loud and obscene. Cas puts his hands on Dean's thighs, keeping him pinned against the wall so Cas has complete control over Dean fucking his mouth_.

Cas wakes up with a start. He's sweaty and sticky. It takes a ridiculous length of time for him to realize he's had his first wet dream in… well, an even more ridiculous length of time. He's not a kid. He's a little pissed too because he has to clean his sheets and himself and he took a shower last night and changed the sheets two days ago. It's also a little unnerving that all he has to do is think back to the dream, think of Dean's fingers tangled into his hair and his dick gives a little lurch.

He enjoys feeling like he can control his life. At the very least his daily routines provide him shelter and a stable foundation for when unforeseen circumstances throw the rest of the world into a frenzy. It is difficult to see this fascination with Dean Winchester as anything other than a crack in that foundation. He does not look forward to the ensuing struggles of keeping himself mindful and on task.

#

Dean has the door to the office propped open and he can hear someone with a loud Boston accent talking on a cell phone. It isn't such a strange occurrence in a school that people call a suburb of Boston, but there's something about the voice that sounds familiar.

"Gabe...yeah...it's just wicked inconvenient. I've gotta teach classes and grade papers and shit. You can't just show up and take over. Don't give me that bull about you being a gracious guest. How're you getting up here? Fine. Fine. Don't be a bastard about this, okay?" The door to Dean's office opens a little wider and Cas walks in, holding his phone to his ear. "Yeah okay. I'll see you when you get here. Just let me know when you get on the train."

Cas throws his phone down on his desk and sits down in his chair without removing his jacket. His phone bounces off the desk and hits the floor.

"Jesus fuckin—," he growls, bending over to pick it up.

"What's the Marky Mark accent you've got going on?" Dean asks.

Cas glares and mumbles, "You would know the underwear model."

"Seriously, Cas. Have I been missing out on the best damn Departed accent I've ever heard?"

"It's a little bit more than pop culture references, Dean," Cas says, suddenly speaking slowly and deliberately.

"No," Dean whines. "Keep the accent. It's hilarious."

"It's not funny."

Dean makes a feeble effort to hide his smile. "It's a little funny." Cas's face is still closed, so Dean nudges the subject a little bit to the side. "So you went to grad school at Harvard?"

"I did undergrad at BC," Cas says like it's difficult.

"Where'd you grow up?"

Cas looks like he doesn't want to say it, "Charlestown. Mark Wahlberg is from Dorchester. There's a difference."

"So do you rob banks and shit like Affleck?" Dean asks.

"I don't understand what you're referencing this time,"

Cas says. "The Town. It's about Charlestown. It's a movie."

"I haven't had the chance to see it," Cas says. "But I don't rob banks. I study theology."

Dean stares at him for a moment in exasperation. You'd think a guy who analyzed holy books written by dudes a thousand years dead would have more of a handle on figurative language, perhaps theological texts are short on irony. "I've noticed. So why do you try to hide the accent?"

"I don't really want to talk about it."

"It's cool, you know. I never met people with real life Boston accents before coming here. I kinda thought it was a myth."

"If you knew my family you would know it's not a myth," Cas says.

"Were you talking to your family?"

"Yes. My brother, Gabriel."

"He's coming to stay?"

"How do you know that?"

"You were speaking very loudly."

Cas looks alarmed. "Yes. I do that when I'm on the phone with them."

"You also swear and have a different accent apparently."

"They bring it out." He stands up and gathers his things together. "I've got to get to class, Dean. I will see you later."

"Cas," Dean says, trying not to laugh at his friend. He repeats that phrase to himself in his head. His friend. He likes that. "Do you want to grab a brew and talk about it? I hate that chick flick crap, but if you really need it..."

"I don't," Cas says, leaving their office without saying goodbye.

"Okay great see you later, Cas," Dean mutters to himself. He goes back to work, still bitterly playing out a one-sided conversation, "Good talk. We should do it again sometime. Maybe with both of us in the room."

"Is this a bad time?"

Dean jumps. "Jesus!"

"Close enough," Garth says, an eager smile begging Dean to appreciate his joke. Dean stares at him stonily. Garth's face falls. "I…wanted to check if you wanted to adjust the paper prompts before I ran copies."

"Uh, shit. Yeah. Gimme a sec…."

#

When Dean sees Cas later that afternoon he expects the same cold demeanor. Dean can't blame the guy. Family shit is hard no matter who it's happening to. Not that he expected Cas to somehow be even more angry about family baggage than Dean is himself.

Instead Cas smiles at him when Dean enters their office to gather up his things before leaving for the night. That might be worse. Dean immediately wants stick his tongue down the guy's throat.

"I apologize for how I acted earlier," Cas says.

"You don't have to," Dean says. "Families suck."

"Yes."

They don't say anything for a second.

"So," Dean says, trying to make everything less awkward and not doing any better at it than if Cas had said something. "You getting ready to go too?"

"It's an hour until the next bus to Portsmouth."

"You didn't drive?"

"If it makes sense I take the bus," Cas says. "I don't want to be wasteful."

"Well," Dean says. "If you want I can give you a ride home."

"Are you sure about that?"

"Course," Dean says. "It's not like Portsmouth is so big you're putting me out."

"All right," Cas says, pulling his papers together and putting them into a briefcase. "Just give me a second."

Dean watches Cas pull himself together and throw his signature trench coat on over his suit. Dean wishes that it covered less of him up. He wants to push it over Cas's shoulders, letting his hands slide down Cas's arms. And… other areas.

"Are you preparing any exciting movies for your class to watch?" Cas asks Dean, as they walk down the hallway towards the parking lot.

"Yeah," Dean says. "Sort of. We're doing some Woody Allen. So everyone likes that. I'm going to watch _Bananas _tonight if you want to come over and hang out while I take notes."

Dean doesn't know why he's asking. He feels like an idiot for saying anything at all. Sam will be furious and he'll just sit on the couch waiting for Cas to leave so he can shut himself in his room and jerk off for hours over the way the way Cas holds a pen.

"That would be nice," Cas says. "I have to correct some papers. It will be a nice change of scenery."

"Sam'll be around," Dean says. "So I'll order a pizza and we can make a night out of it."

Dean doesn't actually know if Sam will be home, but he prays he will be. _Bananas_ is possibly the least romantic movie, but Dean still doesn't think he can trust himself alone on a couch with Cas.

#

Cas, Sam, and Dean sit in the living room of the apartment, eating meat lovers pizza and a salad for Sam. Sam is alternating bites of salad with texts on his phone. Some of the texts are going to Dean's phone, telling him to put his eyes back on the TV. It's stupid to invite Cas over like this. Dean can barely concentrate on what he's supposed to get done for his class.

"Is this movie offensive?" Cas asks, looking up from the papers he's grading.

"Yeah," Dean says, swallowing nothing and looking back at his empty notepad.

"So," Cas says, biting his bottom lip and Dean just wants to fucking die. "My brother is coming to visit for a little bit."

Dean knows this already from Cas's phone call earlier, but he's surprised that Cas is talking about it.

"I didn't know you had a brother," Sam says.

"I have three," says Cas. "And a sister."

"You never talk about them."

"I tend to be very private." He laces his fingers together, avoiding both of their eyes. "I just wanted to let you two know about my brother because he will be around a lot. And since I spend most of my time with you, you should be prepared."

"He'll be in the office and stuff?" Dean asks.

"He'll be everywhere." Cas looks distinctly distressed at the idea. "He'll want to go out for drinks and I will probably need you two to join him and me in order to convince him that I do actually have friends here. As long as you don't object to my including you in that familiar of a category."

"You're being more formal than usual," Sam says.

"Gabriel puts me on edge."

"Gabriel," Sam says. "Are you all—?"

"We're all named after angels," Cas finishes. "It's why my name is so strange."

"When's he coming?" Dean asks.

"The next couple of days. He doesn't like to make definite plans. Anyway, that's it. I should probably be getting home."

"You aren't going to finish the movie?" Sam asks.

"No," Cas says. "How much do I owe you for the pizza, Dean?"

"Don't worry about it," Dean says. "You only ate like two slices."

"I'll see you around, then," Cas mumbles and leaves way too quickly.

"What the fuck was that?" Sam asks.

"Dude's got some family problems apparently," Dean says turning off the movie. "I don't feel like finishing this."

"Huh. Nice to know it's not just us."

"It wasn't that bad."

"We don't know how bad 'that bad' is."

Dean rolls his eyes. Sam and his goddamned semantics. "I'm always telling you. We had it pretty good."

Sam snorts. "If by pretty good you mean it wasn't the worst childhood possible, then yeah, we could have been lived in the walls of a Victorian house living on rats and sneaking out through closet paneling."

Dean stares at his brother for a second. "What the fuck have you been watching, man? Do I need to outlaw horror movies in the apartment? Because I'm not gonna lie that would be really friggin' inconvenient since I have an entire class about the development of horror as a genre."

"I don't know, Dean. Just…as we get older I'm starting to notice where our childhood messed us up."

"Speak for yourself," Dean says, stomping into the kitchen.

#

Castiel has photographs all over his apartment. His family sends them to him in cards. He gets them for holidays and birthdays. And even then, he has some of his own. Pictures he's taken over the years when forced to spend time with his family.

There's a picture on a bookcase of himself and his father. His father has his hands on Cas's skinny seven year old shoulders. He and his father are wearing matching RedSox t-shirts and grinning from ear to ear, standing in front of Fenway. Cas is holding a game winning ball in his hands. His father looks so happy. Not that they won the series that year. They didn't win until long after Cas's dad died. Cas didn't miss his dad. He was a mean drunk with a short tempter. But when the Sox won the series in '04 and he sat on the couch with his weeping mother, Cas missed him. His dad should have lived to see them win.

Next to that picture is a photograph of his whole family, excluding his father. It was taken just before he left for grad school. Grad school was only forty-five minutes away, a little bit further than college, but his mother liked to take pictures of momentous occasions. They had a lot of them.

Michael, the oldest, stands to the left of them. He's wearing a red button-down shirt and jeans. He's got his arms crossed over his chest and Cas can see the wedding band on his left hand. He and his wife had just had their second baby. A boy, their second in a gaggle of (so far) five rowdy boys. Even the one year old joins in on the screaming and fighting. But when they see Cas they run and fling themselves on him in a hug. If Cas tries really hard he can get all of them into one hug and he kind of loves it.

Standing next to Michael is Balthazar wearing too tight jeans and a t-shirt with a deep v-neck. He likes to think of himself as the sex god of the family. He bleaches his hair blond like Sting and wears too much jewelry for a man. When he and Cas are home at the same time, Balthazar gets made fun of for being more gay than Cas is and Cas is the one who sleeps with men. Balthazar is obnoxious like Dean is, boastful and loud. Except he has no right to it like Dean does. Balthazar acts like he's the smartest man around when he barely finished high school. He's involved in the same shady business as the rest of Cas's older brothers and doesn't do as well as Michael and Raphael ever did.

Gabriel is standing with his arms around Balthazar's and Cas's shoulders. He has a goofy smile on his face and looks more like their father than the rest of them do. Cas has no clue how his brother can look so carefree and happy. Cas remembers how tense the house in Quincy was that summer, how Raphael had to basically escort Gabriel around until Balthazar forked over enough cash to pay off Gabriel's debt. Gabriel never cared about that stuff. Death threats and other horrible things never stopped him from placing bad bets. Sometimes Cas thought he did it on purpose.

Cas is sandwiched between Anna and Gabriel. He's smiling, but only because his mother told him too. He's wearing a Harvard t-shirt that was too big on him then, but is a little too tight now. Anna isn't smiling. Her hair is dyed dark red and she's wearing a long sleeve shirt even though it's summer time. Cas's mom didn't want anyone to see the tattoos covering her arms. She's got a little diamond ring on her finger. She had just gotten engaged to her boyfriend, a man she'd been dating in college. They have two little girls now. A four year old and six month old.

Standing a little further away from everyone is Raphael. He's got his father's height and a mean face. He's at least 6'4" and even though his blue eyes should be soft and kind they aren't. He's wearing a nicely tailored suit with diamond cufflinks. He's adjusting his sleeves and Cas can see the bruises on his knuckles. When Cas was very young and hadn't learned not to ask questions those knuckles had found their was to Cas's cheek. Cas was twelve and Raphael was twenty-eight. He shouldn't have punched a closeted pre-teen who was confused about why his brothers would disappear for days or stop talking when he entered the room or why Balthazar had ruined his favorite towel when washing blood off his hands. Cas was lucky that Raphael kept it light enough that he didn't break anything. He could have if he wanted to.

Raphael was shot and killed three years after the picture was taken, four years before Cas came to UNH. Raphael's death wasn't so surprising. From what Cas could glean from the snippets of conversations he heard, Raphael was at the top of everything after Dad went. Some ambitious young idiot took him out thinking that he would take over. Cas had no doubt that Gabriel, Balthazar, and Michael went after the kid. What was surprising was how hard it hit Cas. He could still feel it four years later, weighing on him worse than the death of his father. And now Gabriel was coming and he would tell all sorts of stories Cas didn't want to hear and he'd take days to leave.

Cas sets up the futon for his brother and his phone buzzes. He sees the name Winchester and his heart gives an unexpected lurch. It's only Sam, asking if Cas wouldn't mind if he sent his draft of the article they were working on in the morning rather than that night.

Cas sighs. He's feeling overwhelmed and he should have gotten that beer with Dean.

There's a knock at the door and Cas has to take a breath before opening it.

"Hey, little bro," Gabriel says.


	4. Chapter 4

An author's note, from Steph:

_I hereby absolve Sara from all accusations of making people wait to read this fic. Any late updates are mine and mine alone_.

So I don't think we told you guys, but this fic is actually cowritten by Sara and I. Sara is kind of manically prolific in her writing, whereas I am neurotic and tend to just lie on the floor feeling inadequate. We mostly alternate chapters, with some editing and filling in for each others' chapters, so really if a chapter is taking forever it's probably me and not Sara. We do both have actual jobs, but apparently mine is more emotionally taxing than Sara's so it takes me forever to write.

This author's note inspired by Sara sending me a passive aggressive email containing only a fic comment about how long it's been since we updated.

Chapter Four (in which Gabriel causes mayhem and Dean has bad coping mechanisms)

"Where the hell is Bobby?"

Sam looks up from his laptop in vague confusion. "What?"

"My cat, you idiot," Dean says, stomping out of his bedroom. "I haven't seen him in like a week. Where the hell could he go in an apartment?"

Sam shrugs in response to his brother's scowl. "He has to be around here somewhere," he says. "His food keeps disappearing. I'm sure he'll show up."

Dean grumbles and heads into the kitchen.

"Why would he be hiding in the kitchen?"

"Because he's a cat and cats are fucking weird like that, man!" Dean yells back from the kitchen.

Sam is resolutely ignoring the clanging from the kitchen when Bobby walks out of the bathroom. Sam opens his mouth to call for Dean, but the cat skewers him with a deadly glare and stalks into Dean's room. After a few moments, he calls, "Dean, I think your cat just threatened to kill me."

Dean appears in the kitchen doorway, his hands on his hips. "Dude, what did I say about taking joints from guys named Don? Where'd he go?"

"I'm not telling you. He might eat me in my sleep. Find him yourself."

Dean huffs and goes to look in the hall closet.

#

"Try not to embarrass me. Remember that this is my workplace and I—"

"Cassie, I'm wicked hurt," Gabriel says. "How could you ever believe I would embarrass you?"

Cas glares at him. They don't look particularly alike. Gabe's hair is a dirty blond and his face is longer and narrower like their father's. "I'll let campus security escort you off the premises if you cause trouble," Cas warns. "I'm not sticking my neck out for you if you deserve the consequences."

Gabe smiles dangerously. "I'd like to see them try."

Cas rolls his eyes. "I thought the whole point of this was to lay low and avoid trouble."

"Different sides, little bro." He pauses. "Actually, maybe I _should_ get arrested. Jail would be pretty damn safe, right?"

"Except for the multitude of felonies that would keep you in there for a few decades," Cas says tersely. "Also there has to be at least a few people in there that hates you."

Gabe shrugs as they enter the humanties building. "I'm sure Zar and Mikey could figure out something."

"Leave Michael out of your problems," Cas says fiercely, guiding their path towards the stairs in the hope that there will be fewer people to overhear. "He has a family now. And after Rafe—." He breaks off before his voice can crack.

"Geez, Cas, don't work yourself up," Gabe says. "I was kidding."

"It isn't funny."

Gabe rolls his eyes at first, but stops as his little brother continues to glare angrily at him. He folds, his expression suddenly contrite. "I'm sorry, Cas. I didn't mean to upset you."

Cas scowls. "Like hell you didn't." He pushes open the hallway door and stalks to his office.

Of course, Dean is there, idly flipping a pen as he scrolls through emails. Cas actually finds himself smiling fondly at the sight, though the moment is shattered by Gabriel appearing behind him. "Out of the way, asshole."

Dean jumps in surprise. Cas moves into the office to allow his brother in behind him, struggling to keep his face blank.

"You must be Gabriel," Dean says, offering his hand to shake. "Cas told me you'd be coming into town. Dean Winchester."

Gabriel shakes Dean's hand vigorously. "Nice to meet you, Deano. Cassie's told me all about you."

Dean blinks at the name, but valiantly lets it slide at the sight of Cas' obvious distress. He smiles as easily as he can. "Must have been a short conversation," he said. "Not much to tell."

"Don't sell yourself short, kid. If I didn't know about his no work relationships rule, I'd assume that he was—."

"I have to go to class," Cas says suddenly, his complexion somewhere between fuchsia and violet.

"Aw, come on, Cas, it's a joke," Gabriel whines as his brother hurriedly gathers his things and heads for the door.

"I'll see you at four, Gabe," Cas says. He avoids meeting Dean's eye and disappears.

Dean feels a distinct sense of doom as Gabriel turns to him and smiles brightly.

"So, what's good for lunch around here?"

"He can't be that bad."

"Sam, I'm telling you, he's fucking crazy. Like unhinged crazy, actual crazy."

#

Dean is actually hiding from Gabriel. He feels ridiculous but he needs to freak out to someone, and Sam genetically has to listen to him. Even when he calls him from a diner bathroom frantically insisting that their friend's brother is a psychopath.

"Yeah, Dean, he totally sounds like the crazy one right now. I need to get back to my research."

"Fine, bitch, don't believe me. When you meet him I will enjoy saying 'I told you so.'"

"That's because you're a jerk."

Dean hangs up and takes a moment to school his face to a neutral expression instead of his current are you fucking kidding me face. Really, Gabriel has been fairly innocuous, but something about the way he grins at Dean has him very worried. It's like Gabriel is going to try to eat him, and not even in the sexy way. Now he can see why Cas warned them before he came.

"Where were you?" Gabriel says as he approaches the table again. "Fuckin' Narnia?"

"Yeah, they have cleaner bathrooms there," Dean quips.

Gabriel laughs. "I like you, Dean."

"Thanks?"

"You're welcome. But I'll kill you if you mess with my little brother."

Dean chokes on his soda. "I'm sorry?"

"Well, _I_ probably won't kill you. That's just not really for me. But one of our brothers will, I can pretty much guarantee it."

Dean stares at Gabriel, who simply stares back. "Okay. Not joking. That's… fine," he says. "I still don't know what you're talking about."

Gabriel grins. "Sure you don't." He leans forward conspiratorially. "It's obvious that you're fucking dying to make sweet, sweet man love to my little brother, which is wicked cool because God knows he needs to get laid. But I have to make the standard brother threat: if you break his heart, we will break your bones."

Dean works some moisture back into his mouth. "I don't think that's very standard."

Gabriel leans back as the waitress brings their food. "Just keep it in mind," he says. "So, you teach film."

With a great exertion of tact, Dean goes along with the subject change. "Yeah," he says. "Not as fancy as theology or anything, but I enjoy it. What do you do?"

Gabriel raises his eyebrows. "I'm surprised. Usually Cas warns people not to ask anyone in the family what they do."

"Sorry, I didn't mean to intrude," Dean says quickly.

The other man's smile is more like a cat baring its teeth. "How much has Cas told you?"

"Nothing, really. We barely knew he had siblings."

Gabriel relaxes slowly. "We?"

"My brother, Sam, is Cas's TA."

"Cas hangs out with you two?"

"Yeah, sometimes. He and Sam will do work at our place so they're not always in the library. Change of pace, you know. Cas is helping him with his thesis. Lots of writing. I do not miss those days." He's babbling and he knows it. He hastily takes a bite out of his burger to stop the stream of useless chatter coming out of his mouth.

Gabriel watches him thoughtfully, the food on his own plate still untouched. "Even if you don't want to get to know my brother in the Biblical sense, would you consider yourself his friend?" he asks finally.

"Yeah."

Gabriel slowly and carefully covers his fries in ketchup. "Good. Cassie was always the sensitive one. He needs friends."

"The rest of you don't?" Dean asks, without thinking.

"Nah. We have family to keep us company. Cassie has books. From what I hear, they're not particularly talkative."

"Well with the way technology is going these days, you'd be surprised. He didn't exactly pick the most cheerful books to read, though, your brother."

"Neither did yours."

"Sammy is—" Dean stopped himself from saying that his brother was sensitive too, that his brother could never really accept their transient life after Loyola, and he had retreated into books soon after that. It's not like Gabriel is sharing Novak family secrets, whatever they are, so there's no reason he should drag Winchester skeletons out into the light. "Sammy is a giant surly moose with bad dress sense," he says instead. "We can't expect him to understand things like humor."

Gabriel finally releases Dean from questions and starts eating his sandwich.

#

Dean convinced Gabriel to postpone the surely raucous night of drinking until Friday after one look at Cas's distressed face, but the night has finally arrived. They meet at The Roadhouse, as per Dean's suggestion. Cas slips in beside Dean as they file into the steadily filling bar. He leans in close to murmur, "I don't know what you did or said, but Gabriel seems quite amused by you."

It is very difficult to ignore Cas's chest brushing against his shoulder or his breath tickling Dean's neck. He grins. "Hopefully my luck holds, eh?"

Cas squeezes Dean's shoulder quickly. "Thank you," he says earnestly.

He's going to be shitting sparkles for a week, he's so giddy. "No problem, man," he says, as easily as possible. "Hey, thank me by buying the first round."

Cas smiles shyly and heads for the bar.

Gabriel waggles his eyebrows at Dean suggestively before turning to give Sam the third degree. "So, you're suspiciously tall."

Sam automatically sits on a stool to hide his height. It doesn't really work. "I didn't know that was a thing."

"Jesus, you asshole, stand up. The last thing I need is someone sitting so they're on my level. You're brother's right, you are a moose."

Sam rolls his eyes. "Someone called me that in high school once I hit my growth spurts. Dean kicked his ass but for some reason decided he still got to call me it."

"Well, what else are brothers for? We've been mocking Cas since he was sixteen about going to college. So he went for theology, of all things."

Sam raises his eyebrows. "Yeah, unimaginable."

"It is in our family," Gabriel says, shrugging.

"Was he the only one to go?"

"Nah, Mikey and Anna went too. Most of us just went into the family business."

"He hasn't told us much about any of you."

"Well Mike's the oldest, then there's Balthazar, me, Cas, and Anna in order."

Cas appears with two beers, handing them to Sam and Gabriel. "I hope my brother isn't harassing you, Sam."

"Nah, he's just been telling me about your family. Sounds like a pretty rowdy house with four boys running around."

"You have no idea," Gabriel drawls.

Cas shoots him a look, but says, "Mom was pretty relieved when Anna was born."

"Yeah," Gabriel agrees, "and she was pretty fucking disappointed when Anna turned into a hellion."

"Dyed hair and too many holes in her ears," Cas explains.

"Sounds like fun," Dean says, appearing with Cas' beer and his own. "When's her state visit?"

Cas shakes his head. "Unlikely. She'd have to bring the two little ones."

"Aw, come on, I love kids!" Dean says, enthused.

"He really does," Sam says, at the disbelief on the faces of both Novaks. "Just don't let him babysit them, because he'll have them watching Texas Chainsaw Massacre in a second flat."

"Anna probably wouldn't care," Gabriel muses. "But her husband, he'd probably kill you. Dudes a chef and can handle a steak knife better than I can handle a hunting knife."

"You like to hunt," Sam says and Gabriel shrugs.

"In a way. So, who's ready to get trashed?"

Sam shoots Dean a nervous glance and Dean grins.

"Always ready," Dean says, ignoring the way Cas tenses up next to him. Dean toasts Gabriel and they down their drinks.

Somehow Gabriel manages to pull them over to a crowded table, where a big group of friends are celebrating something. Dean doesn't ever really learn what it was and what really matters is that there are enough hot girls and hot guys for them to make their choice. Gabriel plops himself down in between two girls that he has giggling in seconds, Sam recognizes one of the girls from the grad program and talks to her and Dean and Cas sit at the end of the table.

"So, three brothers and a sister," Dean says, working on his second glass of whiskey.

"Four brothers actually," Cas mumbles. "Raphael passed away a few years ago."

Dean doesn't know what to say, "I'm sorry, man."

Cas shrugs, "Thank you again, you know, for doing this."

"Dude, I haven't had a good night out in forever. It's just as much for me as it is for Gabriel."

"Still," Cas says, glancing at Gabriel who is holding onto Ash's hand and ordering another round for the table. "He's much more bearable when he's happy."

Dean laughs, "Oh, come on. He's not that bad."

"He is that bad," Cas smiles. "He seems to like you, though, that's good."

"I'm beginning to get that vibe."

There are tequila shots not long after that and then more tequila shots and after that Irish car bombs (Gabriel gives a long speech about being opposed to the name, but not the drink). Dean missed a swimmy head and warm toes. It's been weeks since he got really good and drunk. He's having a lot of fun, talking to everyone, laughing, watching Sammy hit it off with this girl. Cas is talking to some chick who works at the Portsmouth library and her friend, a tall man with tan skin and dark facial hair, is talking to Dean.

He tells Dean his name is Jorge and he's a lawyer. He tells Dean all of this while leaning awfully close to him, his hand reaching out to rest on Dean's knee.

"My brother's at UNH," Jorge says, upon learning that Dean is a professor.

"Yeah," Dean mumbles. "What's he study?"

It's really hard to concentrate on what this guy is saying with everything else going on around them and this muscles in his neck. Dean has to keep reminding himself not to think of Cas, who's sitting not far from them, talking to someone else, as Jorge's knee finds it's way between Dean's legs. He can't think about Cas anyway because Cas is out of bounds and both of their brothers are sitting at the other end of the table and Dean is pretty sure that between Gabriel and Sam, someone will murder him.

"I can't hear anything you're saying," Jorge says. "I live just down the street. Do you want to come up?"

Dean looks over at Castiel a second before nodding. Jorge smiles.

Dean and Jorge leave, despite protests from friends and despite the look in Cas's eyes, which might be hurt, or longing, or something else entirely. It doesn't really matter though, because as soon as Jorge open's the door to his apartment, he's got Dean thrown up against the door and he's biting, licking and kissing everything he can find. Jorge's shirt comes off, revealing toned and tanned arms and the shoulders of a linebacker. He pulls Dean's shirt over his head and lets his teeth clamp down on a nipple. It's nothing something Dean is normally into, but he moans and the back of his head hits the door.

Jorge slides down Dean's torso and his hands come to the front of his jeans. For about two seconds, Dean can almost imagine that that black hair on the head bobbing between his legs is Cas's. But it's not Cas. It's a random guy from a bar that's coming back up to kiss Dean's mouth, swiping his tongue against his teeth and pulling him towards the bedroom by his ass.

Dean is not drunk enough for this, but dammit if Jorge doesn't worship Dean's body like he's a fucking god. He can't help that he likes this. Likes it when Jorge flips him onto his stomach, when Jorge's hand slips under Dean's stomach and pulls him up so they're back to chest, Jorge's erection pressing between Dean's ass cheeks, his own erection bobbing between himself and the bed.

Jorge places a kiss to the middle of Dean's back and pulls away, grabbing a condom and lube from his bedside table. Dean watches over his shoulder as Jorge finds a comfortable spot behind him. Then he fucks Dean like it's a privilege.

This is the worst of it, though. Dean is practically screaming and he's got one hand around the headboard of the bed, and another stripping his dick like it's on fire. This is the worst. This is when he can't help seeing Cas and the look in his eye. When he comes it's hard and good and goddamn Dean hasn't gotten laid in forever, but he wishes it was Cas. He wishes it was Cas, pulling out of him to throw out the condom and grab a box of tissues. Instead of Cas it's Jorge falling asleep next to him. Dean lets his eyes close for a little bit because he's sore and tired, but he'll leave in a couple of hours like he always does and, he assumes, he'll be feeling bad about it for a lot longer than that.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five (in which Dean has apparently learned nothing about his own drinking habits and how they hurt other people)

It's a very tense morning on Monday in the office. Dean hasn't seen Cas in a few days and Gabriel left on Saturday, stopping by Dean and Sam's to give them hugs and another death threat. Cas barely responds to Dean's greeting, and quickly begins packing for the library once Dean arrives.

Finally, Dean can't take it anymore. "Hey man, I'm sorry about Friday."

"Why are you apologizing to me?"

He has no idea why he's apologizing to Cas, but he really fucking wants to. "I dunno, man, I just feel bad for being such an embarrassment. And your brother was in town, so I'm doubly embarrassing."

Cas finally looks up at him, glaring. "Why would you think you embarrassed me? It's not like we're—" he pauses, his jaw working in frustration as he picks his words carefully, "— it's not like we're anything to each other, it's fine."

He really would prefer Cas punching him in the face. "I thought we were friends, Cas."

Cas laughs hollowly and turns for the door. "Don't worry about me, Dr. Winchester, I'll be fine. Despite whatever my brother may have told you, I'm perfectly—"

By now, Dean is pissed: at himself, at Cas, at everything. He jumps up and slams the door before Cas can get to it. "No, you're not fine, Cas," he snaps. "And if you're upset with me then either yell at me or accept my apology or, hell, even both but you don't get to choose neither."

"Move. I have to meet your brother in the library."

"Bullshit."

"Dammit, Dean, get out of the way!" Cas yells.

"I'll do you one better," Dean snaps. "I'll leave. Have the office to yourself. Enjoy." He slams the door on his way out. He doesn't know what just happened, but he's feeling sick to his stomach and he needs air, and time, and space without Cas mixing up his feelings everywhere.

#

The morning was terrible, but the day doesn't get any better. Cas can't stop worrying over his argument with Dean. He frets over it while he finishes making his notes for today's lecture. He spins it around in his head so much that he loses his train of thought at least five times in class. He dissects and analyzes it while he's supposed to be discussing Sam's thesis with him.

He's furious at himself for caring. He's furious at Dean for not caring. He's furious that he can't communicate any of this without implicating himself. He's furious that he's being a child and even worried about that. He's furious and confused and very, very tired by the time he heads back to their office.

Dean regards him warily as he enters, clearly wondering what Cas' reaction will be after the entire day.

Cas sighs. "Hello, Dean."

"Hey."

He drops his bag in his chair. "I'm sorry for how I acted before."

"Forget it. We're even."

"No, Dean. You were right to observe that I was upset. Since I couldn't account for the reason myself, I found it difficult to explain why and lashed out instead."

"When in doubt, the reason is probably that I'm an ass."

Dean is giving him an out, but Cas knows he'll feel worse if he takes it. He looks down, even more frustrated. "My brother's visit has thrown me off. I do not feel quite myself," he says quietly. "I'm sorry that I was so harsh to you this morning."

"I'm sorry I was a huge fuck up on Friday," Dean says. Silence falls between them for a moment, broken by Dean, "Hey, that chickflick moment beer invitation still stands. You want to decompress about Gabriel?"

Cas' heart contracts in some sort of tender gratitude. He looks up and smiles. "I would like that."

#

"Tell me about your family," Dean says, setting down two pints of Ash's Portsmouth famous pumpkin ale in front of himself and Cas.

"I need to drink to talk about them," Cas says, picking up his beer and taking a small sip. "Why don't you tell me about yours?"

Dean wishes he had whiskey. The pumpkin ale is nice, but not what he needs to talk about his father.  
"Has Sammy told you anything?" Dean asks and drains a third of his beer before setting it back down.

"Just that your parents passed away. Nothing more than that. You don't have to talk about it if you wouldn't like to, Dean. We can talk about something else."

"No. It's fair. I don't know really. Our mom died when Sammy was born. I was only four, but she got an infection or something and she just didn't get better. We were living in Kansas and our parents were both teaching at the university. After a while my dad left and we moved around a lot. He'd teach somewhere for a couple of years and then we'd go somewhere else. We went everywhere."

"How many different places?"

"Between the time I was six and eighteen, I think it was about seven different universities. I think moving around kept his mind off my mom, but he couldn't really keep a job anywhere. He was really smart, you know, like crazy smart. He had all these published papers and books and everything. He was on the faculty at Yale and Harvard for a year or so. Everyone wanted him, but then they didn't. Because he'd ruin things. When I was eighteen I went to the school he started teaching at that year in Iowa. And luckily he was there for a few years so I could take care of Sam. Then Sam went off to Stanford and my dad went to another school in Seattle and I went there for grad school."

"Why did you stay with him?" Cas asks.

Dean shrugs, he lifts his beer to his lips and realizes it's empty.

"My dad meant the world to me," Dean says. "I wanted to be exactly like him even though I didn't really care about the history stuff he studied. Do you want another drink? I'm thinking whiskey."

"I won't say no to that," Cas smiles and it almost hurts.

When Dean comes back with whiskey Cas lets him sit down before asking the big question.

"How did you father pass away?" Cas asks.

"Car accident," Dean says and relishes the warm burn of whiskey down his throat. "He had to go to a different school when I was finishing up my doctorate and neither of us were with him. He was drunk and crashed his car. He drank...a lot. It's why he kept getting fired. He just couldn't do things. He couldn't teach or talk to people or be nice. He was worse than me."

"I'm sorry about your father. But you aren't that bad," Cas says. "You aren't bad at all."

"I puked in front of my class," Dean says. "I've slept through them and taught hungover. I regularly forget to grade papers or work on my own publications. I'm horrible. At least I know it."

"You've been here for five years."

"Yeah well, it's a big school."

"You're a good professor. The department wouldn't keep you if you weren't."

Dean sloshes his whiskey around in the crystal tumbler, "Not that good. Are you drunk enough to talk about your family I'm kind of done talking about mine."

"Not even close," Cas says.

They talk about other things instead. They talk about traveling, old professors, the best classes they've taken or taught. They talk about their dream classes, the ones they know they'll never get to teach, but wish they could. Cas tells Dean about the best beer he's ever had at a monastery in the Bavarian Alps, that had been brewing beer for 900 years. Deal tells him about the best beer he ever had in Seattle while working at a bar.

Cas takes out his wallet to pay for their round of drinks and Dean pulls it away from him. Cas makes a noise of protest as Dean pulls out a small pile of pictures.

"You keep pictures of your family in your wallet," Dean asks, shuffling through pictures of chubby babies and school photos.

"I am occasionally sentimental," Cas says, grabbing them away from him.

"I got that vibe," Dean says, taking the photos back, but leaving Cas his wallet. "Are these your sister's daughters?"

He puts down a photo of two brown little girls. One with her curly hair in pigtails and a little sun dress and another one who looks like she's barely a year old.

"Yeah," Cas says.

"How old are they?"

"In this picture they're three and one. They're a year older than that now."

Dean lays out three school pictures of blond boys and a picture of two more blond boys who are six months old and two years old.

"These are Michael's kids," Cas says.

"They're so blond," Dean says. "You all have the same eyes."

"We are related," Cas stands up. "I'm going to go get us another round. Is that okay?"

"It's always okay," Dean says. "I'm going to look through more pictures."

Cas has an old tattered picture of his mother and father. It's in black and white and they're holding a baby in sixties looking christening clothes. Cas looks exactly like his mother and his father looks like Gabriel. There's another picture of Cas and his brother's all standing together at the beach. It can't be from that long ago. Cas can see Anna in the background with her husband and one of her daughters. A couple of Michael's sons are sitting together.

"The baby is Raphael," Cas says, taking the picture of his parents into his hand.

"How much older is he than you?"

"Ten years," Cas says. "He'd be forty three now."

Dean sighs, "What happened to him?"

"He was shot," Cas says.

"Cas," Dean starts, but he doesn't really know what to say. "Jesus, Cas, I'm so sorry."

Cas looks pained. "He probably had it coming. He was… not a good person in many ways."

"Still, he was your brother."

"He wasn't a good brother, either," Cas says bitterly. "Luckily, the others were, in their own ways.

Dean takes a giant sip of whiskey. This shit is heavy. "I didn't really realize how big and crazy your family must be until Gabriel showed up. You're not like them."

"You haven't known me for very long," Cas says. "They're...difficult to talk about sometimes. If you came to my apartment, I have hundreds of pictures of them, it's pretty obvious then."

"Why don't we ever hang out at your place?"

"No TV. You couldn't get any work done."

"Jesus. How do you live with no TV?"

"Quietly," Cas says and gives Dean a small smile so cute that Dean wants to stab something. "It's a change from the rest of my life. Living in Boston with them, being around them all the time. I like quiet when I can have it. I like being able to read peacefully."

"Christmas must be huge with your family."

Cas looks warm and happy as he remembers his family, "It is. I really like it, then, you know. I like being around all of them and hugging them and talking to them. They're very funny. I just can't deal with it for more than that."

"I would kill for a huge family," Dean says.

"Is it really just you and Sam?"

"Yeah. We never got like family meals and stuff. My dad couldn't cook for shit and he was either working or drinking. I had to take care of everything."

"My dad," Cas starts. "He, uh, he drank a lot too. We got along really well, actually, when he was sober. We spent a lot of time together, he'd bring me to games and I really liked baseball, I mean mostly it was because I needed him to not hate something that I did, but we had a lot of fun together. He'd bring me out for secret ice cream all the time, not letting my brothers or my mom or Anna know. But then he'd go out and come home and he'd be drunk. Or it'd be late at night and he'd drink and he'd get mean. When he died it was horrible, but it was also kind of a relief."

"When my dad died, I didn't know what to do with myself," Dean says, he feels choked up. He can see tears forming in Cas's eyes and can feel them pricking at the back of his own. "I tried so hard to do everything that he did, hell, I still do. I don't know why. It never made things better. God, this has gotten so depressing. Tell me about Anna's daughters. She should visit too, I love kids."

"I still find it hard to imagine you interacting with children."

"I'm serious! They are so weird. They just say anything and do anything. It's great."

Dean is happy to see Cas smile and relax again, "Okay. I'll let her know."

#

Dean loses track of how many rounds they buy. At some point he's pretty sure that Cas starts drinking water, but whiskey is just so fucking good. He pretends that it's the whiskey that's making him feel hot, and not the fact that Cas' knee keeps bumping into his or that at some point Cas took off his tie and unbuttoned his first button, exposing his goddamned neck which Dean just wants to lick. He doesn't realize how drunk he is until Cas finally convinces him to close his tab, and he stands. Cas catches his arm as he sways.

"Ah, shit," Dean mutters.

"You probably shouldn't drive," Cas says.

"Fuck no, I shouldn't drive," Dean gasps. "Holy fuck when did I get so drunk."

"Probably around drink four or five."

"God dammit this was supposed to redeem my reputation with you."

Cas is smiling. "You did, Dean."

"Awesome," Dean shouts, throwing an arm around Cas' shoulders to stay upright. "Help me hail a cab."

"My apartment is only a few blocks away. You could crash on my couch."

"Also awesome," Dean slurs. "Help me walk to your apartment."

They pay their tabs, and Cas helps Dean to his apartment. It's an entire production- from the alley cat Dean insists on cooing at for five minutes, to even unlocking the door with Dean knocking him off balance the entire time.

Cas lives in a studio with exposed brick walls that are covered in bookcases. It's kind of a mess. There are piles of clothes all over the place, a shirt inexplicably in the sink of the tiny kitchen off to the corner. Cas's bed is partitioned off from everything with yet another bookcase, but it's not made. There are photographs everywhere and Dean would take the time to look, but things are a little swimmy.

"How the fuck do you watch things?" Dean asks, noting that there is no television.

Cas doesn't completely understand the question, but Dean flops face first onto the couch. "Couch," he murmurs fondly.

Cas heads into the kitchen to get Dean a glass of water. He stands for a minute at the sink, berating himself for even bringing him here. There's no way that this could possibly end well. Still, it's an ostensibly friendly gesture, to let Dean sleep on the couch. He just needs to keep himself under control.

Dean is tangled in his jacket when Cas comes out of the kitchen. He sighs and sets the glass on the coffee table to help Dean out of his jacket.

"Thanks," Dean grunts.

"I brought you water."

"Jesus, am I that bad?"

"No, but for tomorrow."

Obediently, Dean drinks, not even noticing Cas' eyes on him the entire time. "Ugh, tomorrow morning will suck anyway. Sam's going to be pissed as hell." He glares at the water before taking another gulp.

"Why would Sam be angry?"

"Because you're off limits. I'm not allowed to seduce any of Sammy's professors and you're friggin' hot so it sucks."

Cas tries to calm his racing heart and fails utterly. "I don't date coworkers."

Dean turns to pout at him, and Cas really really wants those god damned lips around his cock. "Why not?" Dean asks, scooting closer.

"Bad experience."

Dean's hand wanders onto Cas' knee. "I would say tell me about it, but I'm going to be fucking jealous."

"I...Dean?"

Dean looks up at him through his long eyelashes, fingers tracing patterns on Cas's thigh. "You aren't stopping me."

"I'm experiencing a moral dilemma," Cas mumbles.

He's not drunk, except for the current cocktail of hormones rushing through his system. Dean is close, very close, it would take nothing at all to kiss him, taste him. He probably tastes like whiskey, smoky and smooth.

Dean rests his head in the crook of Cas's neck, his fingers idling trailing closer to their now, undeniably, hard destination. Cas curses himself for wearing slacks all the time. They hide nothing, offer no restraint. As Dean's lips attack Cas's neck, his fingers find what they've been searching for.

"Is that a crucifix in your pocket or are you just happy to see me, professor?" Dean giggles and Cas is far too turned on to realize that doesn't make any sense.

Cas lets out a ragged breath. "Dean, we can't."

Dean's fingers brush alongside Cas's clothed and leaking cock. "Why not?"

"Sam's rule. And I… I can't," Cas gasps as Dean's teeth graze the spot just under Cas's ear and he palms his cock, his other hand working to undo the zipper of his slacks. He grabs at Dean's shirt, uncertain of whether he wants to pull Dean closer or push him away and in the end lost in the feeling of Dean's chest under his hand.

"I want you," Dean growls, unzipping Cas's fly, dipping his hand inside the waistband of slightly goofy boxers, and getting his hand around what he's wanted since September.

Cas is either going to come in his pants, or come down Dean's throat if he stays. He has to get out. He pushes away. Dean blinks, surprised. "I can't," Cas says, unevenly. "I'm sorry."

Blindly, he staggers to the bathroom and locks himself in, just in case Dean follows him. He strips and gets into the shower. It takes barely a few strokes before he comes, and he has never felt more Catholic than when he turns the shower on cold to wash it and his thoughts away.

So much for keeping himself under control.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six (or that time shit started going down)

Dean remembers vaguely the feel of Cas's hard cock in his hand. He remembers it when he wakes up on Cas's couch and chugs the glass of water left there. He remembers it when they both act like it didn't happen, but awkwardly apologizes again for being an ass. He remembers it on the drive home from picking his car up outside the Roadhouse. And he remembers it that night when he's pulling on his own dick and wishing it was Cas.

Sam and his fucking no seducing professors rule. What a shitwad. He conspicuously ignores Dean when he finally drags himself home, save for several choice comments supposedly directed to Bobby. Dean doesn't even have the energy to tell him that nothing really happened, despite his best efforts.

Dean doesn't have class Tuesday, so he doesn't see Cas except for in the morning. Wednesday they teach at completely different times, so they only see each other in passing. They don't have any time in the office together until Friday morning, when Dean walks in to the office to pull together some notes and Cas is grading midterms.

"Hi," Dean says, he tries his hardest not to sound like a breathy teenage girl, but he can't help it. Cas does that to him.

"Hey," Cas says and blushes all the way to his ears. Dean wants to suck on them. He wants to kiss every inch of Cas. He wants to know what his fucking eyelids taste like and the crook of his elbow. He really just wants Cas to bend him over the desk and fuck him into next week.

"Lots of work," Dean says and for a second he doesn't know what to talk about. What do he and Cas even talk about when it's just them? Shitty families? How tall Sam is?

Dean sits down at his desk and pulls out his legal pad to go over questions he has for the movie panel he's going to be on that evening. But he can't concentrate. He can't sit there with Cas just a few feet away from him, knowing that he was so close just a few nights ago.

Dean turns quickly when Cas stands up. "Wait."

Cas freezes in the middle of putting books in his bag and looks alarmed, "I have to get to class."

"I...," Dean can barely get the words out of his mouth. "I'm doing this thing. Not a thing. I'm facilitating this discussion panel tonight on the original _Halloween_ in honor of Halloween. The film department does movie discussions every month, usually themed and I'm leading it tonight. It starts at five and will probably be over at eight and I was wondering if you wantedtocomeandhangoutandthengetdinner?"

"What was that last part?" Cas asks.

"Dinner," Dean says. It's a little like puking, the way he finally gives in and it just pops out of his mouth. He takes a deep breath to continue, "You could come to the discussion and then dinner or drinks or whatever. With me. Just me."

"Like a date," Cas says slowly.

"It doesn't have to be."

"Movie, academic discussion, and drinks. It seems like a date."

"You don't have to. It's really last minute and everything, so you probably already have plans."

"Who would I have plans with?"

"Not a coworker," Dean says a little too bitterly and Cas sucks in a breath.

"You remember Monday," Cas states.

"Yeah. Well, kind of. Enough, anyway. I want to break the rules—your rule, Sammy's rule, whatever," Dean says. "I'm good at that. I mean, it's not really breaking the rules. Just movie, academic discussion, and drinks. Maybe food. I'll probably be hungry."

"What do we tell your brother?" Cas asks.

"We don't," Dean smiles. "Not yet. It's just a date, anyway. What if you hate me?"

"You left me alone at a table full of people I didn't know to go home with another man," Cas says, "and I still don't hate you. I think we're beyond that."

"Were you jealous?" Dean asks, smiling impishly.

Cas blushes. "I have to get to class."

"I have to get to the thing early, but it's in the theater at the back of the Mub. I'll drive afterwards. Just be there at five and, you know, look good."

"I don't have time to change."

Dean looks him up and down. "I was hoping you wouldn't."

Cas is late for the discussion. Dean is standing up at the front, looking out at all his students, some of which he actually really likes. They keep saying things to him, but he's barely paying attention.

"Dr. Winchester," one of his students, Kevin, says. "I think everyone is here."

The theater is nicely crowded. They've got the table up at the front set up with glasses of water for the professors when they start their discussion.

"Yeah," Dean says, chewing on his bottom lip. "I guess we'll start then."

Dean sits down in the back and the lights dim and the movie starts playing. Halfway through the movie, there's a the rustling of a trench coat, trying to quietly make it's way to Dean. Cas sits down in the empty seat next to his friend and leans in way too close.

"Sorry," Cas says, reaching over to squeeze Dean's hand, but lets go. "I was with a student."

"Don't worry about it," Dean breathes.

It's really hard to concentrate on the movie. It's not very long at all and somewhere near the end, when basically everyone is dead, Dean gets up to go to the bathroom. Sitting there next to Cas, knowing that it's a date sort of type thing, is everything he wants and still somehow killing him. When he goes back into the theater, just in time for the lights to go up he sits down next to Cas to pull his notes together.

"Are you all right?" Cas asks.

Before Dean can answer Kevin yells, "Dr. Novak! Hi!"

Cas gives Kevin and awkward smile, "Hi."

"You're in a theology class?" Dean asks.

"Humanities credit," Kevin says with a shrug. "Dr. Novak, I didn't know you liked Halloween."

"I've never seen it before, actually," Cas says. "I came to support Dr. Winchester."

Dean splutters something about needing to do his job and rushes to the front of the room. He wonders if this is how Cas feels all the time. It's easier once he starts asking the panel questions, doing his job and analyzing a movie. But then he looks up at Cas, sitting in the back, smiling like he's proud of Dean. It's a little too much, but Dean works his way through it.

At the end of the panel they take questions and then Dean wraps it up a little too quickly. It's eight and he's ready for dinner and maybe sex. Hopefully sex.

#

"I like your car," Cas says abruptly, as he slides into the passenger seat of Dean's Impala.

Dean smiles, "Thanks. It was my dad's. He let me have it when he moved away."

Cas nods, but doesn't say anything else.

"Where to?" Dean asks, pulling out of the parking lot and driving onto the main road in Durham, trying not to hit already drunk college kids as he drives. It would probably be the last straw if he killed a student.

"I have no idea," Cas says. "Anywhere, really."

"We could do the brewery. It's low key and good beer. Don't tell Ash."

"I won't."

"Not even in a secretive way. She'll just yell at us for like twenty minutes if we tell her."

Cas smiles slightly. "Understood."

They sit in silence for most of the ride to Portsmouth, Cas fiddling with his cell phone and Dean with the music. Sammy insisted on putting an iPod dock in the car, but Dean doesn't like to use it. He likes to search for stations with the old radio dial, he likes the static between Led Zeppelin songs and the scratchy voice of a guy probably too old to be working at a radio station.

"I have something to confess," Cas says in the very middle of Kashmir, which isn't Dean's favorite Zep song, but he doesn't know if he wants Cas to interrupt, especially with a confession. Confessions are scary. Confessions mean that Cas doesn't want this to be a date, that he's having second thoughts and that Dean is just going to have to live out the remainder of the semester hating himself. Which is only different in the utter acuity that will be brought to that hatred by having Cas _two fucking feet away_ every day.

Dean turns down the music. "Yeah?"

Cas takes a deep breath, "I really hate horror movies."

Dean lets out a laugh, "Is that why you're being so quiet? Jesus, I thought you were regretting this."

"No, no, absolutely not," Cas stammers. "I just can't stop thinking about the movie."

"_Halloween_ isn't that scary and you came in late."

"I came in late partially because I had to gear myself up for it," Cas says. Dean can see in the headlights of other cars that Cas has turned bright red. It's adorable.

"You didn't have to come," Dean says. "You could have told me."

"I didn't want to say no," Cas mumbles. "It would be awkward if I waited around for you afterwards or just waited for the discussion."

"You really don't like horror movies?"

"No. I really don't. I don't see the point of being willfully frightened."

"It's a turn on for some people. There are some horror movies that are also really good."

"I can't get past the horror part to get to the good part," Cas says. "When I was younger, Gabriel and Balthazar used to put on their Halloween masks and hide in my closet before I got home from friends houses or school or whatever. I would get upstairs to look for them to play and they would jump out and scare me so bad I'd wet my pants."

Dean snorts, "You poor bastard, how old were you? Like eighteen?"

Cas frowns, "Very funny, Dean. I was four and it scarred me for life. I can't deal with things jumping out of anything anymore."

"No more horror movies, then."

"Is it that easy?"

"I'm going to make you watch Poltergeist and the Shining because they're classics, but I promise to protect you. Those aren't that scary anyway. You can make me do something that I'm scared of."

"What are you scared of?"

Commitment, dying on the road like his dad, losing Sam. He shrugs. "Uh, I don't know. Heights."

"I am too," Cas frowns.

"I'm really scared of airplanes," Dean says.

"How do you travel?"

"Well, I deal with them for that, but I'm really scared of them. Sam makes fun of me for it."

"We'll see how this date goes and then we can talk about working on your fear."

"Fair enough," Dean says, pulling into the brewery parking lot.

Both Dean and Cas order burgers with fries and beers and sit across from each other in a booth. It's remarkably unlike a date.

"I don't know what to talk about," Cas says, watching as Dean's tongue darts out to lick ketchup from the side of his mouth. Still cute.

"I dunno," Dean shrugs. "We spend a lot of time together usually."

"Not over the last week."

"No. That's my fault." Dean sighs and puts his burger down on his plate. "I'm a shit boyfriend, Cas. I wouldn't've even asked you out, but I couldn't fucking help it. And after Monday...I don't know. I think I'm probably being really selfish, doing this to you."

"Selfish?" Cas asks, his voice is soft, still thinking over what Dean's saying.

"Yeah," Dean says. "Because if this," he gestures between the two of them, "becomes a thing and I really fucking want it to, I can't take care of you. I will try my hardest, but I can barely take care of myself. I don't handle these things well. I never have. I want to try for you, though, Cas."

Cas reaches under the table to lay a hand on Dean's shaking knee. "I don't need you to take care of me," he says. "I'm old and I've lived alone for a while. I am very capable of taking care of myself. And I would very much love it if this became a thing, no matter how horrible a boyfriend you are. But this is the first date we've been on, we've never really kissed either, all we've got is an attempted hand job and lots of close calls, so don't get ahead of yourself. Who knew you were such a worrywart?"

"I don't think anyone has ever called me that."

"You're gearing yourself up for failure, but if this works out it's between the two of us. It's my relationship too and I'm a damn good boyfriend."

Dean grins. "God dammit, Cas. I kinda wanna kiss you right now."

"Save it for after dinner," Cas mumbles, blushing to the tips of his ears again.

"I'll eat quickly, then," Dean says.

#

Dean pulls up to the front of Cas's apartment building and puts his car in park.

"Are you going to invite me up?" Dean asks with a little smile.

Cas laughs, "Not tonight."

Dean wants to protest, but this is too good to ruin. Instead, he takes Cas's hand and laces their fingers together.

"I had a nice time tonight," Dean says. "I mean, after the initial awkwardness. Even then, it's a good story."

"I did too," says Cas. "It didn't really seem any different than usual."

"Except I'm going to do this," Dean says, leaning across to place a small kiss on Cas's lips.

He stays there for a second, not really tasting or feeling anything, just being. When he tries to pull back, however, Cas's free hand comes up to cradle the back of Dean's head and his tongue finds the seam of Dean's lips. Cas opens up Dean's mouth and his tongue sweeps inside, Dean lets go of Cas's hand so he can let both of his hands wander into Cas's hair. Cas wraps his arm around Dean's torso, pulling him closer. Dean lets out a moan as Cas trails a hand down Dean's chest to rest at the front of his jeans, his dick immediately leaping to attention.

"Cas," Dean whimpers as Cas's lips leave Dean's and travel down to his neck. He says his name again as Cas's hand wanders down the front of Dean's jeans, sifting through the light hair and finally reaching the base of his cock. "Fuck, Cas. You sure you don't want to go upstairs?"

"I'm repaying you for the other night," Cas says, pulling his hand away and grinning at Dean.

"Not awesome," Dean says, reaching down to rub his aching cock through his jeans.

"Now you know how I felt."

Dean pulls Cas close and kisses him again, biting just a little too fiercely on his lip to get back at him. "I would have kept going if you let me. I would let you keep going now. Fuck, Cas. What do you want to do? What do you want me to do? Tell me."

Cas contemplates this for a minute. "I told you I wanted to be serious. This is serious no matter what because we're colleagues and we share the same office and your brother is my TA. Let's go out on another date."

"How am I supposed to sit in the office with you during the week?"

"Let's go on another date tomorrow. Just a day to think and figure out how long we're going to need to keep it from your brother. I suggest until we decide that this is definitely serious."

"I thought it already was."

"What if the sex is horrible," Cas mutters, opening the door.

"Don't be intimidated," Dean grins and Cas gets out.

Cas leans into give Dean one final kiss, "I'm not worried about myself, Dean."

He shuts the door, leaving Dean alone in his car with a half hard dick and a steadily blooming feeling of happiness.

#

"So how was the panel?" Sam asks as Dean comes in the door. He's on the couch, half watching some dumb reality show and half editing a draft of one of his chapters.

Dean shrugs, dropping his stuff by the door. "Good. Movie was as gory as ever."

"How long was the discussion? You're back kinda late."

Dean snorts and heads to the kitchen, ruffling Sam's hair as he passes the couch. "Grabbed some grub at the brewery, moose. Try not to disapprove too hard, you'll pull something."

"You're in a good mood," Sam observes, fussing his hair back into order.

Dean gets himself a glass of water and leans in the kitchen doorway. "Yeah. Good panel, good questions from my kids, feeling pretty pleased with myself. How's the thesis coming?"

"Slowly but surely. Just looking through some of my introductory points. I feel like I have a lot of stuff missing."

"Don't get bogged down in edits before you've even finished. Besides, shouldn't you be out? It's Friday."

"What about you?"

"I _was_ out, remember how you just prissy-pantsed me? Anyway, the last few weekends have been more than enough for a while."

Sam raises his eyebrows. "Who are you and what have you done to my brother?"

"Come on, don't make me sound like some alcoholic."

"I've been telling you that you're an alcoholic for like ten years."

Normally, Dean would be annoyed, but he's too fucking happy right now. He's got a peep show going on in the middle of a Hallmark aisle all up on cloud nine or some shit, and not even his own faults can bring it down at the moment. That will come later- when the endorphins have worn off, or when the sensation of Cas's mouth against his skin fades to imperfect memory, or when he fucks it up next.

But for now, he can still feel Cas's arms around him and that dark hair between his fingers.

"Whatever, Sam," he says. "I'm hitting the hay."

"It's still early."

"Gotta get my beauty sleep, Sammy. You wouldn't understand, we gave up on you a while ago."

"Fuck you, jerk."

"Night, bitch."


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven (or that time we all wanted something to happen and it did)

Dean takes the stairs to Cas's apartment two at a time. He woke up after a restful night's sleep, still happy, still not scared. He went on a jog with Sam, who decided not to ask why Dean was running when he had previously deemed it "fucking pointless." He got work done and only checked his phone for a message from Cas like thirty times, which was less than he wanted to. He got a little worried about it. Worried that Cas had forgotten that he promised a second date that night, worried that Cas was having second thoughts about this whole dating thing anyway. There were those stupid rules...

But then the text came. It just read: "Date? Come over." Dean made up some terrible excuse about work for Sam and bolted.

Cas opens the door after Dean knocks only once and Dean wants to say something. He wants it to be perfect. They should eat dinner or something. He should take Cas out and buy him drinks and they should talk more. They should do something date like. Instead Cas is pulling Dean down into a kiss and Dean doesn't think he'll ever let him go now.

Dean kicks the door shut behind himself and Cas pushes him up against it. There's something in the back of both their minds that they should maybe be adults about this. But they firmly push that away for the chance to touch each other.

Their clothes come off a layer at a time, trying as hard as they can to keep their lips together, their tongues fighting for dominance (and Cas winning). First goes Dean's jacket, it lands on the floor next to Cas's pile of shoes. Then Dean's fingers make quick work of the buttons on Cas's button down shirt, taking time to run his hands over Cas's arms as he pushes it over his shoulders, following muscles and a smattering of freckles down to his hands.

Dean takes Cas's hands and turns them around so that he's got Cas against the door, his hands holding Cas's above his head, so Cas can't do anything while Dean tastes his neck except moan. Dean lets go of Cas's hands because he needs both of his to run up Cas's bare torso and pull him even closer. Cas pulls Dean's black t-shirt over his head, tossing it over a chair and for a second Dean just leans his forehead against Cas's. His eyes are lidded and heavy and Cas's hands come up to cup Dean's cheeks before kissing him once more and pushing him backwards across the room.

They crash into tables, bookcases, the little island in Cas's kitchen and they don't stop. Cas pushes Dean up onto the island among plates and mugs half full of coffee and presses a hand to Dean's aching cock through his jeans.

"Cas," Dean whimpers against his lips. "Please."

Another time Cas would have teased Dean for that. He would have made him wait, let the pressure build up, fished out his own cock instead. But it's too much. Cas can't do it. He needs Dean as much as, maybe more than, Dean needs him. He opens Dean's jeans and pushes them over his legs along with his boxer briefs and finally gets to look at his delicious dick. It's as perfect as Cas imagined. Thick and just the right length, the head leaking pre-come that Cas leans down to taste and Dean's hips buck up into Cas's lips. Cas holds Dean down and takes a lick of the underside of Dean's cock and Dean's hands grab onto his hair.

"Cas," Dean says again. "I—I need—."

Cas cuts him off with a kiss and pulls him off the island. Dean stumbles out of his jeans and undoes Cas's as they move towards the bed. He fishes Cas's cock out of his pants and runs his hand along it loosely, flicking his thumb over the tip and Cas groans. Dean pushes Cas down into his bed Cas kicks his pants off as Dean leans down to take his cock into his mouth and taste it in earnest.

Cas mutters Dean's name, fingers pushing into his thick light brown hair. Cas's free hand reaches into the drawer next to his bed, pulling out a condom and lube because he knows now that they'll need it. He pulls Dean up so that they can kiss again. So he can push Dean onto his back and feather kisses down Dean's chest and his stomach. "I want to fuck you," he growls against Dean's dick.

Dean gasps. "Yes, fuck, Cas. Please."

Cas's suddenly lubed fingers are at Dean's hole and Dean pushes himself down onto them, fucking himself on Cas's perfect fingers. Cas's tongue laps at Dean's balls, taking them into his mouth, savoring them.

"More," Dean says and Cas adds a third finger so fast that Dean yelps. "More, Castiel."

Cas withdraws his fingers from Dean and comes up to kiss him sloppily, biting Dean's lower lip so hard he nearly draws blood. Cas pulls up Dean's legs and Dean doesn't even care that he will definitely pull a muscle getting his knees over Cas's shoulders. That's the beauty of Cas. He makes Dean feel like he isn't old as all hell.

"I fucking dream about this," Cas says, his eyebrows knit together in concentration as he slowly pushes into Dean. Dean's head falls back against the pillows, exposing his neck and Cas leans down to nip at Dean's skin, finally bottoming out, his balls resting against Dean's ass. He wants to stay like this. He wants to be inside Dean where it's warm and tight forever. But Dean grabs Cas's hair before crushing their lips together and breathing, "More."

Cas rocks himself out before shoving back against Dean mercilessly. Dean is unsurprisingly vocal, not that anything he says is coherent. Words like "fuck" and "oh my god" come tumbling out of his mouth interspersed with moans and Cas's name. Cas, on the other hand, is extremely clear about what he wants, his voice hitching with each thrust.

"Wanted to fuck you so bad." Cas's voice is so strong and commanding that Dean turns into a whimpering mess. Dean's dick is leaking pre-come, making a mess between the two of them, each movement dragging out more. "I wake up with fucking come on my sheets because I dream about fucking you. I dream about you bent over the desk and screaming as I pound into you."

Dean lets out a string of swears and pleas as Cas cocks his hips and Dean sees stars.

"I bet you love that." Cas is going even faster now, his hand on Dean's chest, holding him steady so all he has to do is work his hips. "Giving up all your control to me. Letting me do whatever I want to you."

"Anything," Dean manages to get out, his hand coming down to stroke his dick.

"No," Cas says, grabbing both of Dean's hands and pushing them over his head. "I want you to come without touching yourself."

"Fucking mother fucker," Dean growls, but Cas silences him with his lips.

It doesn't take Dean very long for his orgasm to hit with Cas leaning so close to them, Dean's dick trapped between their stomachs. The friction alone is killer, his hands holding Dean away is almost worst, but Cas keeps pounding away, hitting that perfect spot over and over again, panting dirty things to Dean.

When Dean comes he thinks his heart might stop. It's intense, from the pit of his stomach, radiating to his fingertips and toes. He feels like he just went running, like he ran without stopping and he's trying so hard to catch his breath, but it's not there yet. He's shaking, every part of him crying out as he pulls Cas down to kiss him again.

Cas comes quickly afterwards, his words garbled into moans and Dean's name. It takes a long time for either of them to speak and when Dean finally can, he laughs.

"That was okay," he says and Cas punches Dean's shoulder as he pulls out to flop down in the bed. Dean quickly reaches out to pull him close. He's back to the shy, quiet professor. Somehow, knowing how wild Cas is in bed only makes the more sedate version even sexier.

After a few minutes of simply laying together, reveling in that endorphin-soaked state, Cas stirs. "We should clean up."

"Yeah, you gonna lick it off?" Dean murmurs, eyes half closed.

"Don't tempt me," Cas says, leaning down to nibble his earlobe. Dean turns his head to give Cas his lips instead. Cas pulls away to discard the condom and retrieve some tissues.

When Dean makes no move to clean himself up, Cas does it, feeling strangely tender about it. "Scars," he observes, looking down at Dean underneath him. There aren't so many. But they're alarming against Dean's perfect, golden skin.

Dean shrugs. "Fights, shit like that. I was a bad kid. I had to see the school therapist at one of the places we were at. She said it was because of my mom being dead or whatever. I hated her."

"One doesn't think of professors as being the children who got into fights."

"Yeah, well, movies were always there when I had nothing else," Dean says, reaching up and running a hand over Cas's arm. "Made it hard to get into college, but I worked hard once I got there, pulled my shit together."

"I thought that you only studied film because you could stand it."

"Dad was a professor," Dean says. "He wanted me to be a professor. Sammy started out as pre-law and I think Dad wanted to kill him for a while. He didn't even talk to him. Said lawyers were soul suckers, shit like that. I never wanted to make him mad so I had to study something. Movies kind of saved me."

"Do you wish you could do something else?" Cas asks, leaning down to place a kiss to the side of Dean's neck, his lips ghosting over the stubble there.

"No. I don't think I can actually do anything else. And I kinda love getting to talk about movies all the time."

Cas makes his way down Dean's chest and amuses himself with Dean's nipples. Dean reaches up to tangle his hands into the perpetually messy black hair.

"Cas," Dean whispers. Cas can hear fear in Dean's voice.

"Yes, Dean?" Cas says, propping himself up on his arms so he can look into Dean's eyes.

Dean runs a hand over Cas's cheek and back into his hair.

"I...you make me...I'm really...happy right now. I know that Sammy is gonna be pissed and everything and that I'm possibly the least competent human being, but fuck, Cas, I'm really happy that you're here."

Cas can tell that he and Dean are not going to have sex again in the next hour or so. Dean wants to talk, wants to cuddle, and Cas can't say no to that. He's warm and content in a truly rare way, and he can only assume that it's because of Dean's presence.

"I'm happy too," Cas says, settling down onto the bed beside his friend. Dean puts an arm around him and kisses his forehead.

Dean smiles, but Cas's eyes are closed and his head rests on Dean's chest. Dean rests his head against Cas's, fitting them together.

Dean closes his eyes and places a kiss into Cas's hair, "What do you have for breakfast things? I make a mean omelet."

"I have eggs and veggies," Cas yawns, his accent coming out a little bit. "I don't know if I could watch you making me breakfast without interruption."

"I'll get up before you. It'll be ready when you get up."

"No," Cas rubs a hand on Dean's chest. "No. I want to wake up with you."

"But you'll know how bad my breath smells in the morning."

"The first time I met you, you had just vomited in front of a hundred and fifty people and I still wanted to kiss you. Morning breath will have no affect on me."

"I want to make you breakfast," Dean says. He's so happy and comfortable. "I want to make you eggs and bacon and pancakes and waffles and potatoes and I don't know what else people eat for breakfast. I could buy french bread and one time in Germany I had ham on pumpernickel bread and in South America I had beans and an avocado."

"Are you hungry right now?" Cas lets out a little laugh.

"I'm always hungry, but no. I just want you to know that I can cook for you. I can take care of you sort of. I mean, I can't really. I'm a fucking mess, but I'll cook. I'll cook for you all the time if I can."

"I won't say no to that," Cas mumbles sleepily. "I always love a man who can cook."

"I mean, it's omelets, not foie gras or something."

Cas yawns again and nuzzles his face against Dean's neck. "Traditionally, foie gras requires little preparation by the chef," he informs Dean as he drifts to sleep.

Dean is restless. He's always a little restless after sober sex. It's like a good workout. His endorphins are soaring and even though he'll be sore tomorrow, he's feeling great right now. He dozes for a bit, warm and content with Cas, but eventually he needs to get rid of some energy, even if it's just pacing.

Once he's sure that Cas is asleep, he slips out of bed, careful not to make too much noise and he pulls on his black boxer-briefs. The sky outside of the tall windows by Cas's couch is the hazy purple of dusk. There is enough light from the street lamps outside that it doesn't take any extra effort to look at all the pictures decorating almost every surface of Cas's apartment.

Dean pads around Cas's apartment, studying everything. There are pictures of Cas's nieces and nephews, his mother and father, his brothers and sisters, other people he must be related to. He has pictures of him with friends in college, the same few people over and over again. There's a picture of him and his siblings all wearing matching Christmas sweaters and standing in front of a fireplace. Gabriel is obviously drunk, Balthazar is grinning like the picture is only of him, Michael is in the middle of shouting and Cas and Anna have their arms around each other and glasses of wine in their hands. Cas looks happy and comfortable.

On the little coffee table between Cas's two couches is on of those photo books you make online. It's printed and bound and there's a little handwritten note at the beginning that says: "Merry Christmas, Castiel. Love, Anna, Sameer, and your favorite nieces."

There are more Christmas pictures, more matching sweaters, but there are pictures from everything else as well. Every little occasion. Birthdays, holidays, graduations, baseball games, recitals, and just plain old family visits.

The realization that Dean has none of this, that he has never had any of this and he doesn't know if he ever will hits him like a punch to the gut. Cas looks so happy in all of these, no matter what shit his family put him through, he's smiling all the way to his eyes. He's holding babies in diapers and laughing with his mother. There are only a few pictures of Dean and his mother, there are none of Sam, there are barely any photographs at all of either of them. There was no one there to do it. Dean can't imagine having enough people around to even warrant taking a picture. Who would even look at them?

Dean wants this. He wants the photographs and the smiles. He doesn't care how stupid and pointless they are. There is no point to the picture of Cas holding a nephew under each arm, but it's awesome. It's just that realizing this is scary as all hell.

From the depths of his jacket, so hastily discarded near the door, Dean's phone begins to ring. He rushes to answer it. Sam's name is on the screen. He stifles a groan and connects the call. "Hey."

"Where the hell are you? I thought you'd be back ages ago."

"I got held up and..." Dean gropes for a believable lie. "And I'm heading out on the town after this. Don't wait up."

"Whatever. Roadhouse? I might see you there."

"Nah, somewhere different."

"With who?"

"A... friend," Dean says evasively.

Sam snorts. "Okay, just write their name down while you're sober so you have something to call them tomorrow morning."

"Yeah, bite me." He hangs up the phone.

"Dean?"

Dean turns to see Cas standing a little bit away from him, wearing pajama pants. He doesn't know how he didn't hear Cas get up and pull on clothes. His hair is rumpled and his eyes are squinting a little bit in the weird light.

"Yeah." Dean has to resist the urge to jump Cas.

"You okay?" Cas's voice is sleepy and laced with his Boston accent.

"I'm good," Dean says. He crosses the room to Cas and kisses him, slow and soft.

Cas is clearly unconvinced. "You sure? Was that Sam?"

"Yeah. I couldn't sleep. Sorry I woke you. I wish you had like fucking rooms so I could clean or some shit and surprise you."

"Just come back to bed," Cas says, taking Dean's hand and pulling him towards the crumpled and inviting sheets. Dean has to tell himself not to freak out. This is Cas's bed. He's getting into Cas's bed and wrapping his arms around Cas. Cas who is awesome and very much off limits. And he's falling asleep there and he doesn't ever intend to leave.

#

Dean wakes up the next morning with Cas's head still on his chest. His arm is tingly from where it's pinned under Cas, but he still doesn't move it. He reaches over with his other hand and ruffles Cas's hair.

"Morning," Cas says without opening his eyes. His soft breath against Dean's skin is possibly the most comforting thing in the world.

"How'd you sleep?" Dean asks.

"Very well," Cas says, breaking away from Dean so he can lean over him and they can kiss. He pauses in contemplation. "Your morning breath isn't so bad."

"Neither is yours," Dean mumbles, smiling into another kiss, letting his hands come up to run over Cas's torso.

Cas presses Dean into the mattress, straddling his hips and pressing his growing erection into Dean's. Dean groans. It's almost too much this early in the morning, too much to be coming from Cas. He needs Cas to hurt him so he can prove to himself it's not a dream, though Dean knows better than everyone that you can hurt in a dream just as much as in real life.

Maybe Cas can hear his thoughts because he moves down and takes a nipple between his teeth. Dean's hips buck off the bed, pressing as tight as he can against Cas. Then he pushes Cas up so he can slide underneath him, pulling off Cas's pajama pants in the process and Cas moans when the head of his cock catches against Dean's chin and Dean takes it into his mouth.

Dean sucks down pre-come, reveling in the tangy, sweet taste of Cas. All Dean wants is to make Cas come and by the way Cas is whimpering above him he doesn't think it'll take long. He works his way up the shaft, relaxing his throat to take Cas deeper. Dean doesn't stop Cas moving his hips down so that he's fucking Dean's mouth.

"Dean," Cas breathes, rolling his hips and Dean moans around Cas's dick, reaching up to knead Cas's ass in his hands.

Dean spreads Cas's cheeks and there's a thud as Cas's head bangs against the headboard. Dean would make an attempt to see if Cas is alright, but Cas doesn't stop fucking his mouth. The way Cas says Dean's name again and again is better than the sex, better than anything Dean could ever hope for. It's so raw and almost pained.

Cas comes down Dean's throat and Dean takes all of it. Cas's hips work slowly through his orgasm, stuttering to a halt as he rides out the last waves. Dean barely has time to catch his breath before Cas is pulling him up and attacking his mouth. Cas reaches between them and takes Dean's cock into his hand, stroking quickly and almost mercilessly. There are teeth at Dean's lips and then at his neck, his ear, his chest and he wants to quiet down because the window's open to let in a breeze and people down the street must be able to hear him.

Just as Dean is about to come, Cas slides down his body and takes him into his mouth. Dean's hips come off the bed as he climaxes, Cas sucking down every drop.

Suddenly the room is too quiet, filled with panting and nothing else. Cas rests his head on Dean's stomach.

"Fuck," Dean says, reaching out for Cas. "Fuck."

Cas leans over Dean once again so they can kiss. Dean has to bite back all of the affection he wants to shower on Cas. Cas would probably be scared if Dean confessed love and adoration after a couple of good blow jobs.

"We should tell your brother," Cas says after a few minutes, quietly tracing circles on Dean's chest.

Dean sighs. "Not yet."

Cas looks up at him, beseeching. "He deserves to know. This can't be the first time that two professors have had a relationship. I'm sure there's relevant policy in place."

Dean sits up and rests his elbows on his knees, scrubbing at his face with his hands. "Probably. But you're not going to be on the receiving end of Sammy's wrath. Can't we just wait a bit? Enjoy each other before we have to deal with other people's shit?"

Cas sits up and leans against Dean, kissing a line across his shoulder and up his neck. "Avoiding it usually makes it worse," he murmurs.

Dean is well aware of that, but he really doesn't want to deal with it right now. He turns to kiss Cas, who seems to know perfectly well what he's doing and grudgingly accepts it. "So, breakfast?"

Cas smiles, nods. The smile is weak and slightly sad, and it makes Dean's stomach clench. Already he's fucking things up. He plasters on a smile himself and gets up to start preparing breakfast.

#

When Dean finally makes it back to his apartment after breakfast and several more interludes, there's a girl in one of Sam's shirts and very little else lounging on the couch watching tv. "Morning," Dean says, mostly to get her attention.

She glances at him. She has large brown eyes still smudged with last night's makeup, and her wavy dark hair is tousled and unruly. "Morning," she replies, immediately turning her attention back to whatever show is on. He expects a dumb reality show, but it looks like some weird history program. "Sam is in the shower. You must be Dean."

"And here I am hoping we're both strangers."

She turns to grin cheekily at him. "I'm only here because you weren't, so yeah, you came up in conversation. I'm Ruby."

"Nice to meet you. You eat yet?" Dean asks, heading towards his room.

"In a manner of speaking."

Dean gags and promptly runs into the doorframe. "Did you seriously say that? I don't need that image in my apartment, let alone my brain."

The bathroom door opens to reveal Sam in his towel. Ruby grins wickedly as Dean ducks into his room and slams the door. "Good morning," Sam yells at his brother's door. He turns to Ruby. "What's with him?"

She shrugs, eyes wide.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8 (Or that week Dean almost exhibited self-control and the writers remembered that Garth was around)

How he and Cas manage to keep their hands off each other for most of the next week is, frankly, a mystery to Dean. Every time Cas comes into the office he smiles shyly and ducks his head a little to avoid meeting Dean's gaze for too long, and it just makes Dean want to kiss his neck, his ears, his face. Whenever Cas is working with Sam at the apartment he studiously avoids looking at Dean, which of course just makes Dean the most obnoxious attention-seeker ever as he finds opportunities to tell embarrassing stories about Sam from their childhood so that he can hear Cas laugh and see him grin. They text surreptitiously at all hours. Sometimes it's even clean. Cas seems to be waiting for Dean to indicate where their relationship will go next, what the next step is.

It doesn't occur to Dean how sexually frustrated they both are until Friday. It's only been a week, and God knows the sexting has taken the edge off, but midway through the day, the atmosphere changes. When they pass in the hall heading to their respective classes, Cas doesn't look away, staring intently at Dean in a distinctly hungry way. It makes him jumpy and nervous, and he loses his train of thought at least twice during his lecture, guiltily certain that his students can tell where his mind is instead.

He's practically shaking with combined anxiety and arousal by the time he finishes his classes for the day and heads back to the office. Cas is on his way out, and he sweeps his eyes slowly over Dean from head to toe. Dean doesn't admit to himself that he fucking shivers.

He finds excuses to stay in the office, pretending that he's working on an article for publication or grading essays that he was supposed to give back at least a week ago. He doesn't know what he's really waiting around for until Cas comes back. He looks up as Cas shoves the door closed behind him.

"I'm glad you stayed," Cas practically growls, dropping his bag by his desk. Dean is half out of his chair when Cas seizes him by the collar and kisses him, pushing Dean back against his desk. Dean's hands find their way into his hair, and he lets out a small moan when Cas begins to nip and suck at his neck. He traces his hands slowly down Cas's back to grab a handful of that glorious ass. Cas presses his rapidly hardening cock against Dean's, moving back up to find his mouth and nibble his lips and taste him.

Dean shifts his weight to sit on his desk, curling his legs around Cas's and keeping them pressed together. His trembling fingers are pulling at Cas's belt buckle as Cas shoves at his jacket as the door to their office opens.

"Holy shit fuck!"

Cas jerks away, gasping. The wild look in his eye is completely gone, now, and damn if Dean doesn't miss it.

It's just Garth, but it could have been anyone. One of their bosses. A student. Sam. As Cas retreats toward the window to collect himself, Dean squares off against his TA.

"Hey, Garth," he starts, as if Garth did not just walk in on a makeout session. Garth points in wordless horror at Dean's crotch, and his semi. Dean smacks his hand away. "Jesus, man, pull yourself together. Are you listening?"

"GAAAHHHH WHAT THE HELL!" Garth shrieks.

Dean rolls his eyes and goes to shut and lock the door. "Garth, listen to me—"

"YOU WERE GOING ALL LORD OF THE ASS-RINGS IN HERE."

"That's not—shit, Garth, we were just making out. Chill out, man."

Garth is pacing, though between the two desks and other two men in the room, it's more of a frenetic three-step whirl. "I DON'T CARE I WASN'T EXPECTING IT I JUST HAD AN ANEURYSM."

"I know, Garth. Would you fucking listen?"

Garth is clutching his head as he paces, now. "WHAT DO I DO WITH THIS WHAT DO I DO WITH THIS IMAGE IN MY BRAIN WHY IS IT THERE."

"I think he might be in hysterics," Cas observes. "Perhaps one of us should slap him. Unless you have smelling salts."

"Oh, yeah, I carry a bottle just in case. Who the fuck has smelling salts?" Dean snaps. He settles for grabbing Garth and shaking him until Garth looks up. "Guess who just signed up as a member of the Don't Tell Sam Club."

Garth whimpers.

"Dean, I don't think this—" Cas protests.

"No, this is an awesome idea." Dean grins at Garth. "We have an accomplice. He can run interference for us, cover our asses and/or trail."

"I don't think this is really part of my job," Garth whines plaintively.

"Of course it isn't," Dean says cheerfully. "Which is why if you tell anyone about this, I'll fuck you up."

"Dean!" Cas says sharply.

"What? I'm joking. Well, mostly. Come on, Garth, it's for a good cause."

"What the hell are you talking about, good cause?" Garth asks, his voice cracking with desperation.

"I dunno. Bonage?"

"Dean," Cas says in a low, dangerous voice, "I don't think I agree with this. Garth has no obligation to keep our relationship a secret from your brother."

"Of course not, that's why I'm asking—"

"I don't even agree with the premise of what you're asking," Cas snaps. "This is all a very elaborate plan to keep your brother in the dark, which is totally unreasonable."

"He doesn't want to know," Dean points out.

"No, he doesn't want it to happen. That's different."

"Do I really need to be here?" Garth interjects. Simultaneously, Dean demands that he shut the fuck up and Cas urges him to be quiet. He wilts against the wall next to the door, resigned to his fate.

Dean crosses to Cas. "So what are you saying?" he asks, slightly quieter now that Garth has reminded him that they're not alone. "That you want to break this off because of Sam?"

"No, that's not it at all. I'm simply saying that he has every right to know that we are both breaking this rule that he has created." At Dean's hard look, Cas moves closer, reaching out tentatively to lay his hands on Dean's chest. "That's the point. We're both in this, we're both making that decision."

"Yeah, that's my point. We're the ones making the decision, why even involve him?"

"Why involve me?" Garth whines. They both ignore him.

"That's not how this works, Dean," Cas says gently.

"Well it should be."

Cas stares into his eyes for a few more moments before accepting defeat. Dean is going to be stubborn about this, and in any other situation Cas would honestly not care who did and did not know about a relationship. For now, he'll let it go. "Alright. We won't tell Sam. For now."

"Right," Dean says, clearly relieved. "Besides, we don't even know where this is going. No need to upset him unnecessarily. It might not even last."

It was probably supposed to make him feel better, but it's more like a sliver of ice taking up residence between Cas's ribs. He attempts a smile, but doubts it is at all convincing. Desperately, he turns to Garth. "I regret to inform you that your assistance is still required, Garth. Will you help us?"

Garth rubs his face with his hands. "Yeah," he says, suddenly determined. "Fine, I'm in. What's the plan?"

#

"I feel so fucking stupid," Dean whines.

Cas grins. "You look pretty stupid too, don't worry."

Dean scowls at him, but he is too precariously balanced on his skates to attempt to punch him. "This is ridiculous."

"Indulge me."

It's pretty sickeningly adorable. It's the following Monday from their fiasco with Garth, and Cas has somehow dragged Dean out ice-skating, of all date activities. They're surrounded by giggling pre-teens and anxious mothers. Cas skates closer to Dean, offering his hands to steady him. Dean's scowl only becomes more pronounced and he makes no move to take his friend's hands. Combined with a red nose and knit cap pulled down around his ears, it simply makes Cas smile wider.

"I hate skating," Dean mutters. "Who the hell came up with this shit anyway? Who was like, 'Hey let's stand on some fucking knives and slide around on some fucking ice'? Bastards."

"You're being melodramatic, Dean," Cas laughs. He glides behind Dean to give him a gentle push. Dean glides forward a few feet, swearing the entire time, earning them glares from several mothers with young children. "Why did you agree to this if you hate it so much?"

"You watched Halloween for me. It seemed fair."

"Horror movies are emotionally strenuous for me, Dean, I don't think this is quite the same."

"Whatever. Can we sit down and drink some hot cocoa or something? Preferably with bourbon in it."

Cas skates in front of Dean backwards, grinning wickedly. "After you've finished a lap."

"What! Cas, come on, get me off this stupid ice."

"Face your fears, Dean."

"I'm not scared I'm fucking pissed!" Dean yells. Several teenagers burst out laughing as a mother covers her child's ears and skates away.

"Maybe don't yell obscenities when there are children around," Cas suggests. He skates back to Dean. "If you hold my hands it will be easier."

Dean scowls and fits his hands into Cas's. "I feel so stupid."

Cas slowly skates backwards, gently pulling Dean with him. "Why? You know, you can pick up your feet."

"No thanks. Because I'm a grown ass man that can't ice skate. There are toddlers here that can skate better than I can."

"I'm sure your masculinity can handle the blow," Cas says. "Maybe focus on me instead of everyone else."

Cas's cheeks and ears are flushed from the cold air, and the blue in his eyes is intensified by the rich brown scarf around his neck. His smile is so perfectly lopsided that Dean can't help but return it. "I think I could do that," he says softly.

It takes almost a half hour, but they eventually lap the rink. Dean falls three times, though by the third time Cas suspects he is doing it for sympathy.

"I'm pretty sure I broke something," Dean groans as they finally reach the door off the ice.

"You're fine."

"No, that last one really hurt my tailbone."

Cas rolls his eyes and helps Dean onto dry land. "I think you'll live."

"Kiss it and make it better," Dean pleads, feeling much more himself now that he's off that stupid ice.

Cas raises his eyebrows, amused. "I'll drag you out to the middle of the rink and leave you there if you don't behave."

"I'm adorable and you know it."

"You are," Cas agrees, leaning closer to kiss him quickly. "And just think how cute you would be staring at me with big puppy dog eyes from the center of the rink." Dean pokes him sharply in the ribs, but he only laughs.

"Whatever, asshole. Let's get these death traps off our feet and go get some hot chocolate or whatever it is that people do on these dates."

#

The nights Dean gets to stay at Cas's place are few and far between. They are limited groping sessions in the office or in the car or one time in out in the woods behind the humanities building. Cas didn't completely mind giving Dean a blow job against a tree, but it was hard when their only times together were on weekends when Dean could pretend to be hooking up with some random stranger.

So Cas cherishes their nights together and tries to make them last as long as possible. He and Dean fuck until neither of them can move, until they're so sweaty and worn out that it takes all of Cas's energy just to curl up and put his head on Dean's chest where it fits so perfectly.

"I never do this," Dean says sleepily one Friday night. He arrived later than he said he would because Sam made him go out for drinks possibly in an attempt to keep Dean from getting an STI from someone. Sam is slightly convinced that Dean is on a sex binge that will only end in disease. He has mentioned it to Cas once or twice and Cas pretends to not care.

"Do what?" Cas asks. "Lie to your brother?"

Dean chuckles, "No. I do that all the time. I meant cuddling."

"You're very good at it."

"Of course I'm good at it," Dean says. "I just don't do it ever. I don't really ever sleep over anywhere either."

"You're good at that too."

"I like it with you." Dean leans down to press a kiss to Cas's lips. "We should do another date thing tomorrow. I mean, we can make it look like not a date, but it'll be a date."

"I thought you were still hurting from ice skating."

"Yeah. That was stupid. I never want to do that again."

"You're wicked cute when you're all bundled up though," Cas yawns.

"Well it's going to be fucking freezing until April, so you'll probably get sick of it."

"I doubt that. We could go on a hike tomorrow."

Cas feels Dean shift under his head. "You really like the outdoors."

"What were you thinking?"

"I don't know. Movies or something."

"Let's go on a hike. You can pack us a picnic."

Dean sighs. "Yeah, okay. You're lucky I like you."

"I know." Cas closes his eyes and snuggles even closer to Dean. He listens to Dean's breathing even out into soft snores as he falls asleep before letting himself relax.

To say that Castiel Novak is cautious in love is an understatement of truly epic proportions. After a turbulent childhood filled with emotional distress, strong emotions are met with fear and anxiety. His few relationships were passionate in their inception and finally bitter and messy when they ended. He does not know a way to find his happy ending and emotional fulfillment in another living, breathing human. Dead men speaking through centuries-old manuscripts, yes. The men in his bed, not so much.

He fears this for his own sake, as well as Dean's. Dean, who is already damaged and nearly broken from his own childhood, and doesn't need Cas's shit added on. He deserves someone tender and patient and that would be Cas if Dean didn't also need a savior. Salvation is not something Cas can find from within.

Still, for the first time in a while, he feels willing to try. He doesn't believe in fixing people and he doesn't want to change Dean, but he wants to make things easier. He wants to make the hardships of the past fade and help shoulder the burden of the future ones. He wants to untangle the knots of emotion Dean is still carrying around inside of him. He wants to let Dean comb through his own, to release him from shitty memories and learned anxieties.

He also wants to bend Dean over and fuck him senseless as often as is socially acceptable, and not just for the sexual gratification. The way Dean moans, whimpers, gasps his name and reaches dazedly for him when they're done makes him feel fiercely, tenderly protective. Perhaps because then he truly believes that Dean doesn't care that he is lost too, and is willing to try being lost together.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter Nine (in which Dean and Cas spend all of their time having sex, like really, stop being teenagers, we get it, you can put your penis in there and you're really happy about it)

"Dr. Novak!"

Cas turns at the sound of his name to see Sam running down the hallway towards him, his long hair sort of bouncing around his head as he does. Sam Winchester makes a strange picture. He would be better suited on a football team than hunched over a desk in a library translating ancient Hebrew scripture. Though his brain is made for those sorts of things, not football. He is a born scholar. Probably more so than Dean ever was. No matter what Dean says, Cas can't help thinking he'd be happier doing something else.

"Sam, there is really no need to keep treating me so formally," Castiel says. He takes in Sam's appearance. Sam is shifting awkwardly in his neatly polished shoes. He isn't directly meeting Cas's eyes. Cas would think that Sam must know about him and Dean, except he doesn't think that Sam could be so calm about it.

"I'm sorry, man," Sam says, relaxing a little. "I just need to talk to you about something."

"Of course," Cas says. "I'm just heading to my office."

"I need to talk to you without Dean around."

Sam knows, then. Cas wonders how long either he or Dean will be living. He supposes his last memory of Dean isn't so bad (fucking Dean on the kitchen counter during a failed attempt at eating in), but he doesn't want it to be his last memory of Dean.

All Cas can say is, "Oh."

"You know. He's just been so weird since the whole Gabriel thing."

"He has?" Cas is curious now. He assumes Dean would be awkward, but he didn't think he would be so noticeable. He reminds himself to reprimand Dean for his clumsy acting later. Cas then has to force himself to keep from thinking about all the wonderful ways he could punish Dean while in the presence of his brother.

"Yeah," Sam says. "He isn't weird to you?"

Cas shakes his head.

"Oh. Well he won't let me invite you over for movies and stuff anymore. It doesn't really matter."

"What do you need to ask me without Dean hearing?"

"Just, uh, Thanksgiving. We do a whole thing at the Roadhouse. Dean and Joe cook, Ash makes drinks, Ellen and I set the table and try to be helpful. Usually some lonely people wander in and join us. Dean gets really drunk and makes a fool out of himself. It's fun. I was thinking if you weren't doing anything, you'd like to join us."

Cas is surprised and finds his heart melting a little at the thought that Sam considers him close enough to be a part of a holiday meal.

"You probably do things with your family," Sam says. "You guys are really close, so I get it if you can't come."

"No, no. We actually don't do that much for Thanksgiving. I just go to Michael's with my mom, but it's not that great. I would love to join you for Thanksgiving. I actually make quite good pie if you'd like me to bring that."

"Not Thanksgiving without pie," Sam grins. "That's perfect. We usually just buy desert from the store."

Cas gives Sam a disgusted look. "Oh, you absolutely cannot do that. I'll bring a couple of pies. Do you need anything else?"

"Nope," Sam says. "If you have like a person to bring you're welcome to, but other than that pie is perfect. I'll text you times and stuff later."

"Sounds good."

"Great."

#

When Cas enters the office Dean is probably doing something important, but he honestly can't remember what it is. Fucking Cas just takes everything over the second he walks into a room. He's so lucky Cas doesn't walk into his lectures because he'd probably forget how to teach. He would definitely get fired if he tried to have sex with a professor in front of all the students.

Dean stands up too quickly, knocking a pen off his desk and tripping a little on his chair. Cas steadies him with hands on his shoulders and they kiss. It's slow and wonderful. Dean lets his hands come to cradle the back of Cas's head.

"I spoke with Sam," Cas says when they break apart.

Dean feels his heart shudder to a stop and he pales. "About what?"

"He said you won't let him invite me over for movies anymore."

Dean relaxes a little. "Because I don't think I could stop from touching you. Even if we weren't keeping it a secret I don't think my brother would take too kindly to me trying to blow you while he's in the other room."

"He also invited me for Thanksgiving."

"He what? Why?"

"We spend a lot of time together, all three of us."

"Yeah...but...it's just very, um, we're keeping this a secret."

"I told him I'd bring pie."

"You're bringing pie. Usually we buy the pie."

"I make pie," Cas says, his lips a little pursed.

Dean can't hold back a groan. "You make pie. Fuck, Castiel. How the hell am I supposed to keep away from you now that I know that?"

"It will prove to be difficult."

Dean takes the opportunity to read Cas's expression and tone of voice. "You're mad at me."

"You don't want me to come to Thanksgiving with you."

"I do," Dean says. "I really do. It's just really relationship-y and then we'll have to tell Sam and I don't want to do that."

"It's called being an adult."

"I know. I know, Cas. It's good. I'm glad you're coming and it means I'll actually have to get a handle on this and that's good for me."

"It is good for you," Cas says. "I think that this will be a good test for us as a couple."

Dean shivers at the word couple, "Yeah. It will be."

"On a related note, this means I have to go apple picking this weekend."

"You have to?"

"I have to pick my own apples. Would you like to come with me."

"That's a little gay."

"Less gay than when I fucked you on the edge of the couch the other day," Cas says and Dean's knees wobble.

"Yeah," Dean breathes. "Less gay than that."

#

Dean shakes the bottom of the ladder to make sure it's sturdy for Cas to walk up and get some apples from the top of the trees.

"Are you trying to assert your dominance?" Cas asks with a little smile.

Dean blushes. "I just don't want you to fall."

"It's like six feet," Cas says. He gives Dean a playful shove and walks up the ladder with his grocery bag. "I'm not brittle."

"No you aren't," Dean says, shifting a little so he can feel the pleasant ache in his back still left over from the last time they had sex.

It's been too long. Three days is too long. He watches Cas's ass above him, perfectly filling out his jeans. Dean loves Cas in jeans and a sweater. His jeans are tight on his ass and he when he reaches up to grab an apple his sweater and t-shirt ride up to reveal his perfect hips.

Cas looks down at Dean. "Would you catch me if I fell?"

Dean shakes his head. "I'd probably step out of the way. What if you hurt me. Though I do look really hot bruised..."

"Maybe it's worth it then," Cas says, sliding down the ladder and handing Dean the bag of apples to carry. "I could just hit you for being an ass instead."

"Save that for the bedroom, big boy," Dean says, pulling Cas forward by the front of his sweater. Cas's lips taste sweet like apples and the skin of his cheeks is warm from the sun. Every time Dean kisses Cas he's amazed by it. Amazed that he can kiss Cas, amazed that it's always the best kiss, amazed that Cas wants to kiss him back.

Dean knows this is what he does. He knows that he falls in love fast and then he fucks it up. But it feels different with Cas. Every time Cas looks at him he feels his heart swell. He also feels his dick swell, but that's different. Maybe. Dean doesn't really know how to respond to affection.

"I just need some Granny Smiths," Cas says, pulling away from Dean and tugging him by the hand towards another row of trees.

"Really?" Dean asks, a little surprised at the apple choice, but so happy to have his hand in Cas's.

"A mixture of apples is always best," Cas says. "I've tried it with just one kind of apple and it's not really the same, you know."

"Good pie is good pie."

"I don't make good pie, Dean. I make great pie."

"God," Dean says, pulling Cas closer and kissing his cheek. "You're so sexy when you exist."

"Dr. Winchester?" Dean looks up and Kevin and another student, Charlie, are standing in front of them. "Dr. Novak."

"Oh fuck," Dean says, dropping Cas's hand and staring at their students.

Charlie looks like she's searching for words for a little bit before saying, "How's it going...?"

"Very well," Cas says. "Are you two enjoying the weather?"

Dean doesn't know what to say. He and Kevin just stare at each other like they're both shocked. Kevin might be a little disgusted to see his professors acting so comfortable together.

"Are you dating?" Kevin finally asks.

"Oh my god, Kevin," Charlie says. "They're obviously dating."

"It's kind of a secret," Dean mumbles. "Don't go advertising it or anything."

"We're not ready for everyone to know," Cas explains.

"So you came here on a date?" Charlie asks. "You two are idiots. Everyone comes here."

Cas looks a little insulted. "I needed apples. I'm making pie."

"That is too cute," Charlie says. "But still. Everyone comes here. I'm sure someone else is bound to see you."

"We're just leaving," Dean says, taking Cas's hand to pull him away and then dropping it when he realizes that he shouldn't be holding Cas's hand.

"Granny Smiths," Cas reminds Dean.

"Yeah," Dean says. "Then we're leaving. We'll see you two next week. Go study or something."

He grabs Cas's hand despite everything and drags him away towards the Granny Smith's. Cas doesn't say anything about the whole situation, but Dean is left feeling extremely uncomfortable. They manage to pick the rest of the apples without interruption, but when they go back towards the farm house and store to pay for everything Dean walks away from Cas so that they aren't seen together. He says he's going to go buy Cas a present, which he means to do, but it's really an excuse to keep Cas from getting mad. He sees a few more students while buying two bottles of apple wine and cider and he meets Cas at the car.

"I didn't know that so many students came here," Cas says once he and Dean are settled into Cas's little Subaru. Dean left Sam with the impala because it's impossible to get around with any stealth at all when everyone in that part of New Hampshire knows it.

"I forgot," Dean says. "I didn't even think about it. I'm sorry I was so awkward."

"It's all right, Dean," Cas says, reaching to take hold of Dean's hand.

Cas leans across the seats to kiss Dean, but Dean pulls away. Cas frowns, but doesn't say anything. He just starts the car and pulls out of their spot. Dean automatically feels like the biggest asshole in the world for doing that to Cas.

"We're in the parking lot," Dean mumbles.

"Yes, I know," Cas says. "Too public."

"What if Sam or one of his friends-."

"I know," Cas says. "Too much of a risk. If we just told Sam about this, it wouldn't be an issue."

"We're going to have to tell him at Thanksgiving. I don't know what's going to happen and I want to enjoy this while I can."

"It's hard to enjoy when I can't even try to make you feel better because we're in public."

"I know," Dean says. They sit in awkward silence for a while and Dean can't stand it. "Here. Pull over."

Cas looks instantly suspicious. "Why?"

"Just do it for me," Dean says and Cas pulls over to the side of the road. The sun is just setting ahead of them, turning to the tops of the trees to fire. It's really beautiful up in the North, more so than Dean could have ever imagined. It's even better with Cas.

Dean reaches over to adjust Cas's seat, his hand ghosting over Cas's jeans to get to the button that pushes it back.

Cas gasps at the feeling of Dean's fingers. "I can do it, Dean."

"I want to," Dean says. The speed at which the seat moves backwards is almost comically slow, so Dean occupies the empty space with kisses to Cas's neck, his free hand loosening the buttons of Cas's shirt so he can expose more skin. When there is finally enough room for Dean to get his fat ass up between Cas and the steering wheel, he swings a leg over and straddles him.

The way Cas looks up at Dean is almost like he's still surprised this could be happening to him. He is still surprised, but Dean doesn't know that. Dean wouldn't even fathom that Cas could imagine that Dean is too good for him, to hot, too charismatic, too kind. Not too smart. Cas was smarter. He knew that.

Dean leans down to kiss Cas, framing his face with his hands and Cas's hands coming to rest on Dean's perfect back, pulling them perfectly together. When Cas moans it's like porn for Dean. It's probably like porn for anyone else because Cas doesn't hold anything back. When he moans it's his whole body, moving and growling with him. It starts in his toes, grows and curls in his belly, and when it escapes into Dean's mouth it's its own entity. The sexiest fucking thing Dean has ever heard.

Dean rocks their hips together and the wave of arousal that shoots through him is so powerful that he has to stop for a second. He has to clutch onto Cas's shirt and press their foreheads together, eyes closed tight. Cas presses open mouthed kisses to the side of Dean's neck, biting everything he can get to, marking what's his.

"On my list of places I want to fuck you this car isn't even in the top ten," Cas mumbles and Dean lets out a breathy laugh. Cas cradles Dean's cheek with one hand and kisses him again.

"You have a list?" Dean asks, reaching down to push up Cas's sweater so he can get to the button on his jeans.

"I've been working on it for a while," Cas says, his breath hitching as Dean's thumb runs over the tip of his hard cock, peaking out of the waistband of his boxers. "The office was number one. My bed was number two, yours was number three. The kitchen counter number four and number five was the impala. I forget the rest right now, but I would be very happy to check my car off even if it's in the teens."

"It's easier in the impala," Dean says, pushing up Cas's sweater even further so he can kiss the soft skin of his stomach. He's proud of himself that he's flexible enough to get down and take Cas's hard cock into his mouth.

Cas's hands tighten on Dean's hair, "I never say no to a challenge. How many men have you fucked in the impala?"

Cas rolls his hips, his cock slipping from Dean's mouth and resting against his cheek. Dean reaches down to push Cas's seat back further, not letting Cas's cock leave him. Cas lies back down easily, but his fingers grab a hold of Dean's hair and yank him up so that they're face to face. Cas wipes the little bit of pre-come from Dean's cheek with his thumb and offers it to Dean, who takes it into his mouth, lapping his tongue around the thumb like it's a little dick needing to be sucked.

"I asked you a question," Cas mutters, trying to sound forceful, but the sight and feeling of Dean's mouth on this thumb, makes him pant. "How many men have you _fucked_ in the impala."

"Only a few," Dean mumbles, letting Cas's finger drop from his mouth. He misses it. Misses the feeling of having his mouth around a part of Cas. He kisses Cas's neck again, teeth scratching against stubble and he pulls Cas's jeans and boxers down to the middle of his hips so he can have better access.

"Anyone as good as me?" Cas asks. He knows what he wants Dean to say, he knows what Dean will say.

"No one's as good as you," Dean groans against Cas's skin.

Cas pulls Dean's hard dick out and wraps his hand around it. He's so used to it, knows exactly what Dean likes. He know that when he starts at the base and pulls his hand up, squeezing just enough to cause some friction.

"Turn around," Cas mumbles, his hands going to Dean's hips.

It takes some fumbling, but Dean is facing the steering wheel, his ass exposed and rubbing against Cas's rock hard cock. Cas reaches forward, wrapping one hand around Dean's dick, his other hand coming up to Dean's mouth.

"Suck," he commands and Dean does just that. As Dean sucks Cas's fingers, Cas places kisses to Dean's back, his lips dragging against his flannel shirt, pulling it aside so he can bite at bare skin. Dean makes an obscene noise around Cas's fingers and in the back of his mind he's reminded that they're just on the side of the road, not so far from campus. Anyone could see them. But it's a quiet Saturday afternoon, so they just have to hope for that.

"Do you have any idea how hard it is for me to keep my hands off you," Cas growls into Dean's neck. He withdraws his wet fingers from Dean's mouth and presses them against his hole. "Do you know how hard it was to keep from fucking you when we were fucking apple picking. It wasn't even sexy and every time you reached up to grab an apple I wanted to bend you over and fuck you into next week."

Dean whimpers in response, pushing himself back onto Cas's fingers. His chest hits the steering wheel and there's a little blip as the horn blares, but neither of them notice or care.

"I could fuck you for days," Cas says, deciding that Dean is sufficiently prepped. Cas isn't as thorough as he usually, but Dean is begging and his cock is so hard he might burst. "Just looking at you makes me hard, Dean. Fuck."

He presses inside and Dean pushes himself back down on Cas, his hips already working. Cas wraps one hand around Dean's hip and his other is busy pulling on Dean's dick. Dean's hand joins Cas's while his other braces himself against the dashboard.

"God," Cas groans, pulling Dean onto himself slowly. "You're so fucking tight, Dean. How are you so fucking tight?"

Dean gasps Cas's name, his head falling forward. He's so close. He's been close, but he knows it is going to take much. He feels his orgasm building and he shuts his eyes tight against it, his voice calling out for Cas feverishly. Every time with Cas is this good. No disappointing orgasm, nothing too quick or too forced or anything like that. It's always earth shattering.

Dean's ass convulsing around Cas's cock and the warm liquid coating his fingers sends Cas over the edge. He digs his fingers into Dean's thighs, probably bruising. He'll feel bad about that later when Dean takes off his clothes and he has to look at what he did to him. But right now it's what he has to do. He has to hold onto Dean or he might never come back down.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter Ten (Or that really cliché time that a holiday dinner went to shit)

"Fuck, I can't do this."

This is probably the tenth time that Dean has called Cas today. By this call, Cas is spooning filling into the pie crusts. "Dean, it'll be fine," he soothes. "What's the worst that could happen?"

"I have at least ten different horrifying scenarios involving Sam snapping and going on a killing spree. Which one do you want to hear, the one with the carving knife or the one with the oven?"

"I find it hard to believe that Sam would turn into a murderer just because we're dating. He's a very gentle person."

"Yeah? You haven't gotten clocked by him as many times as I have."

Cas sighs and sets the bowl of filling down. "Well by your own admission this isn't the first time you've dated his professor—."

"I wouldn't call most of the other times really dating."

"Logically speaking, what's the probability that this will be the time that prompts a violent outburst?" At Dean's disgruntled silence, Cas goes back to filling his pies. "He may surprise you."

Dean sighs, clearly unconvinced, and changes the subject, "What are you doing?"

"Do you want the sexy version or the true version?"

"The true version, but only if it's sexy."

"Filling the pies."

Dean groans. "Jesus," he says, almost as breathy as he is when Cas has him in his mouth. "Your apartment must smell fucking amazing by now."

"Not as good as you."

"Oh god dammit, stop, it's going to be hard—gah, difficult— enough to keep from grabbing you in front of my brother as it is."

"Well, that would be one way to tell him, though I suggest we go a different route." Satisfied with the filling in the pies, Cas covers them with crust. "How do you keep getting away to call me and have totally unnecessary panic attacks?"

"Sam's watching the parade with Ellen and Ash while Joe and I cook. I threatened to stab Joe if he asks me what I'm up to."

"That was a good idea. There's no possible way he could be suspicious now." The oven beeps behind Cas. "Shit, the oven's hot. I have to finish these pies and then I'll be over in an hour or so."

"No, wait, how are we doing this?"

"I don't know. We'll figure it out."

"That sounds like a terrible plan."

"It isn't a plan. If you want a plan, you're going to have to make it yourself, Dean. This is your family. I don't know them as well as you do." He pauses in thought for a moment. "Actually, a word of advice: don't mention all the sex."

"I'm terrified that you needed to specify that, and one day you will tell me that story."

"Indeed I will not."

"I'll see you soon."

"Get ready for the best pie you've ever tasted."

"Jesus fucking Christ I hate you," Dean grumbles, hanging up.

Cas grins and goes back to his pies.

#

"What the hell is that amazing smell?" Ash yells in the middle of the Toy Group of the National Dog Show.

"Cas!" Sam says, jumping up to greet him. He surprises Cas by giving him a giant hug. "Happy Thanksgiving, man."

"Happy Thanksgiving, Sam."

"Guys, this is Dr. Novak, my advisor. He's been here a few times, but I don't think we ever introduced you," Sam says to the two women perched on the bar stools. "This is Ellen, the only one who puts up with all of us at once. And that's Ash. Don't ask her about your computer troubles if you want to live."

"Please, call me Cas," he says, shifting the container holding the pies to his left side so he can shake their hands. Ash gives him a distinctly mischievous look. This may be more difficult than he was anticipating.

"Here, I'll take the pies in to Dean and Joe. You guys hang out. Any special instructions?" Sam says, relieving Cas of the pies.

"Nope, just the fridge. I'll warm them in the oven for a few minutes before we eat them."

"Awesome. I'll be right back." Sam disappears into the kitchen.

"So, you're Dr. Novak," Ash says, pointedly.

"Ash, leave the poor kid alone," Ellen says, smacking the girl lightly on her way behind the bar. "What do you drink, Cas?"

"I'll have a beer."

"Give him mine!" Ash yells excitedly, bouncing in her seat.

"She brewed a special Thanksgiving beer for today," Ellen explains. "She's very excited."

"It's a brown ale with—."

"Ash, wait until we're drunk to be boring about it," Ellen says. "Here, Cas. So, does Sam know?"

"Know what?" Cas asks, taking a sip of beer. "This is excellent beer."

"Of course it is," Ash says smugly.

Ellen is glaring at him. "What the hell do you think I mean, boy? Does he know about you and his brother?"

"I don't—," Cas starts lamely, but both women are giving him looks of such utter exasperation that he can't finish the lie. "No. Dean insisted we keep it a secret from Sam."

"Well, that's not surprising. He's told you about the other times?"

Cas nods, feeling a strange sense of déjà vu. His family is into each others' business like this, too.

Ellen sighs and shrugs. "Well, it won't be pretty when he finds out, I'll tell you that much. Sam will get over it, but it's going to be rough for a while."

Cas grimaces. "I feel terrible, now. We were going to tell Sam about us tonight. I didn't even think about your evening."

"Holy shit this is going to be so much fun," Ash says.

Ellen rolls her eyes at her. "Don't worry about it, Cas. We've had worse holidays. Besides, if Dean actually manages to do it, that's a good sign for the two of you."

"Hey, we should be ready to go in like a half hour," Dean says, coming out of the kitchen. He has a hand towel thrown over his shoulder and an apron on. "Joe shanghaied Sam into helping him with the potatoes."

"Happy Thanksgiving, Dean," Cas says, working past the lump in his throat. The sight of Dean so comfortable and content is doing very strange things to his emotions.

"You too, Cas," Dean mumbles. He might be blushing. Or he might be flushed from the heat of the kitchen.

Ellen is watching them with raised eyebrows. "I don't know how the hell you two kept this a secret for so long," she says.

Dean's eyes widen in alarm. "What?" He looks from Cas's guilty expression, to Ellen's amusement and Ash's maniacal delight. "Oh shit. You told them?" he asks Cas.

"Please, Dean, we already knew," Ash says. "When did you two actually start dating? Joe and I have a pool going."

Dean stares at his friends in utter horror. "Everything is worse than I expected," he groans in despair.

Sam comes out of the kitchen. "Hey, Joe needs you for something that he was too impatient to explain to me." Dean hurries past him into the kitchen, and Sam settles next to Cas at the bar. "So, how's the dog show going? Who won the Toy Group?"

Ellen stares blankly at him before turning the TV up to cover up the sound of Ash giggling.

"I don't think it's been decided yet," Cas says.

Sam frowns at Ash in confusion, which simply makes the giggles worse. He turns to Cas. "They're not usually this weird."

"Family has to be embarrassing around new people. Remember when Gabriel was in town?"

"Oh no, am I late?"

The four of them turn to see Garth standing in the doorway. "Garth!" Sam shouts, jumping up to pull him inside. "Nah, we're just hanging out. Is—is that a box of wine?"

Garth looks profoundly ashamed. "I didn't know what else to bring," he mumbles.

"Booze is always a good choice," Ellen says, coming around from the bar to relieve him of his load. "Grab a stool. We're killing time by making fun of dogs with show haircuts."

"I'm actually going to drown you in your boxed wine," Ash says cheerfully. "You disgust me."

"Ash."

"Who brings box wine to a bar?"

"Ash, shut up. Garth, honey, it's the thought that counts."

"I spent two months brewing a beautiful brown ale and he brings in a box of wine and it's the thought that counts?"

"Yeah, he hasn't wasted nine hours of my life telling me about what makes his beer so special."

"I'm still drowning you in your shitty wine, Garth. Ellen can be appreciative at your funeral."

"Actually, many reputable wineries are now boxing their wines," Cas puts in. "The stigma of the box has been significantly reduced within the community. Boxes are easier to store and ship and can have spouts put in to facilitate serving."

Everyone stares at him, surprised by this sudden input.

"Right," Ash drawls. "How much did you spend on your box wine, Garth?"

"…Five dollars."

"I fucking hate you, man. Cheap ass wine is cheap ass wine, boxy stigma or not."

"Ash, shut up and go start moving the tables together," Ellen sighs. Ash complies, grumbling. Ellen pats Garth's hand. "I appreciate the gesture, Garth."

#

The dinner passes a lot like holiday dinners that Cas remembers from childhood. Fewer people, and less actual violence than a large Irish Catholic family with sketchy careers, but the affectionate ribbing and copious amounts of alcohol are enough to give him a warm sense of familiarity. He's quiet most of the time, occasionally butting in to surprise the group with random trivia relevant to whatever Dean and Ash are arguing about, but soaks in the atmosphere contentedly. He's surprised by how much he missed this kind of banter. He's almost excited about the prospect of Christmas next month, and, as he watches Dean laugh with his pieced together family, he wonders if there's more than one reason for that excitement.

The food is excellent. Everyone compliments Joe and Dean repeatedly, and they amuse themselves by trying to out-compliment each other. Cas remembers to compliment Ash about her beer again, which prompts the entire table to applaud her efforts and inspires her magnanimous announcement that she will not actually drown Garth in his box wine. Garth giggles into his sixth glass of said wine and invites her to give everyone an in depth explanation about her brewing process.

Cas rises as Ellen groans and threatens to drown Garth in his wine herself. "I'm going to warm up the pies," he announces, to no one in particular. Joe and Ash cheer. Cas touches Dean's shoulder surreptitiously as he passes him on the way to the kitchen.

Dean enters as Cas is sliding the pies into the oven. "Hey."

Cas straightens and smiles shyly at him. "Hi."

Dean stands awkwardly near the counter. "Ash suggested I come show you how the oven works."

"I figured it out."

"Well, then Joe started to insist that he knows the ovens better than me so therefore he should be the one to explain them to you. I thought she was going to kill him. From the look on his face, she gave him a pretty healthy kick to the shins."

Cas laughs. "Thank you for letting me come today, Dean."

"Yeah, of course. I'm… I'm sorry that I made such a big deal out of it before."

Cas crosses the kitchen and wraps Dean in a hug. Dean returns it gratefully. "By before, you mean this morning, right?"

Dean groans and pokes him in the ribs, but doesn't let him go. "Shut up, it's stressful."

"Really?" Cas says, pulling away slightly so he can look at Dean. "I've had a wonderful evening. I didn't realize you were still anxious."

"Yeah, well it's a big step. Also I don't relish the idea of being banished from my apartment for a week while Sam throws a fit."

Cas grins mischievously. "Well that wouldn't be all bad."

Dean returns the grin and strokes his hands down Cas's sides to his hips. "How long are the pies in for?"

"Ten minutes," Cas mutters, concentrating on keeping his voice level.

"Oh, that's plenty of time," Dean says, pulling Cas towards the door.

They sneak through the service corridor to the bathroom. Cas knows he should feel guilty about fooling around with Dean while Sam still doesn't know the nature of their relationship, but Dean is pulling him into a stall and has a perfectly rakish look in his eyes as he pins Cas against the wall and kisses him. Cas cradles Dean's face in his hands, reveling in the taste of him, but Dean is already unbuttoning his pants and wrapping his hand around Cas's cock. Cas bites back a moan.

"Oh, you're in trouble," Dean whispers. "I haven't even started, yet."

"Fuck, Dean, don't tease me."

"Don't worry, you'll like it."

Cas tries to pull him back to kiss him and relieve some frustration, but Dean pulls away and slides down Cas's body, pulling his boxers and pants down to his knees. Dean takes the head of Cas's cock into his mouth and sucks lightly. He pulls back and blows on it. Cas lets out a shaky breath.

"Dean," he says and Dean looks up at him through his long lashes. Cas takes a deep breath. He wants to tell Dean he loves him, but he can't. Not yet. Instead he moans as Deans works his way down his shaft slowly. Dean's hands come up to rest on Cas's thighs, pushing him against the wall so he has complete control.

Dean loves the taste of Cas, relishes it as the tip of Cas's cock hits the back of his throat. Cas's hand pushes into Dean's hair, grabbing at it and fucking Dean's mouth onto his cock, making Dean gag. But Dean doesn't care. He doesn't mind at all. In fact, he's so turned on by it that he removes a hand from Cas's thigh and reaches down to his own pants. He struggles to concentrate on Cas's cock as he unzips his jeans and fishes out his rock hard dick.

"Fuck," Cas growls, pulling Dean's head away from his cock. Dean moans, sending the vibrations straight to Cas's stomach. "God, yes. Touch yourself."

If Sam decides to go to the bathroom now at least Dean won't have to see Sam's face when he figures out what's going on. There's a part of him that wants Cas to quiet down, but he's so goddamn turned on. Fucking Cas and his fucking pie and his fucking cock, which is fucking Dean's mouth almost leisurely.

Dean needs to put a stop to that. They both need to get off now. There's not time for loving how Cas tastes and sounds and smells and all those other senses that Dean can't remember because Cas is invading every part of him.

Dean removes his other hand from Cas's thigh to wrap around the base of Cas's dick, stroking in time with his hand on his own dick. Both of Cas's hands are in his hair now. They're controlling less and instead just grasping Dean's hair because Cas needs something to hold on to. Dean works his tongue and Cas swears.

"Dean," Cas gasps. "So close. I wanna see you. Wanna see you come."

Dean's orgasm hits hard, painting the floor and wall between Cas's legs with come. Cas's orgasm follows, giving Dean only enough time to catch his breath before he comes down his throat.

#

Garth is, quite possibly, the drunkest he has ever been. In fact, he may be more drunk at this very moment than every previous drunken experience in his life combined. But no one else will drink his box wine, and he doesn't want it to go to waste, so he's probably closing in on a liter of wine for the entire night.

"If you puke on my floors I'll drown you in that instead of whatever's left of your shitty wine," Ellen calls after him. She laughs with the rest of the group. He waves his hand dismissively at them.

The hallway tilts back and forth as he stumbles towards the bathroom. "Stop that," he mutters. "The bathroom is far enough away already."

Finally, after what seems like an eternity (roughly four seconds), he reaches the door to the men's bathroom. He reflects that it is a very friendly door, and leans against it for a minute to regain his balance. After thanking the door, he pushes it open and is finally in the lovely, clean bathroom, with cool tiles beneath his hand.

As he struggles to work out how to transfer himself from leaning against the wall to the stall nine million miles (or two feet) away, the door to the handicap stall opens. Cas pauses midway through zipping his fly, catching sight of Garth. Garth attempts to nod familiarly in greeting, thinking to himself that there is no need to be embarrassed about peeing, but some people are bladder shy and maybe… well maybe Dean was in the stall with Cas to cheer him on or some type of exposure therapy. Or… wait, no, that doesn't sound right at all. Slowly, his sodden mind puts the two pieces together.

NOT PEEING.

NOT.

NO.

TOILET NOW.

The awkward terror of catching his professor immediately post-blow and the alcohol-to-food ratio in his stomach converge, and he bolts into the nearest stall.

Dean sighs, listening to his TA retch into the toilet. "You go finish with the pies. I'll make sure he survives."

Cas kisses him lazily. "Good luck."

"Save at least half a pie for me."

"I may have an extra at home."

Dean pulls him back and kisses him deeply, vomiting TA or no. "You are so fucking ridiculous and I'm obscenely lucky you like me."

"Well I doubled the recipe to make four and only brought three, so—"

"Stop, you're ruining it. Go save those glorious pies. I'll be in soon."

Dean guides Garth back to the table in the middle of desert. Everyone is halfway through their first slice, exclaiming how fantastic the pie is between bites. Joe makes the rounds, pouring coffee for everyone. Cas sits back, sipping his cup contentedly, pleased with his efforts and their reception.

Ash hands Garth a large glass of water, while Dean helps himself to a large slice of pie and attacks it with gusto. After the first bite he closes his eyes and positively moans at the table. Cas grips his coffee tightly, very close to dragging Dean out of the bar and fucking him until he has to leave for Christmas in Boston. "Awesome pie, Cas," he says. "Best thing I've ever tasted."

If they were alone, Cas would make some suggestions as to rivals for that title, but Dean's enthusiastic response to the pie is already drawing enough attention.

"Speaking of awesome things," Ash begins, "let's talk about the awesome things we're thankful for."

"Wow, cliché much?" Joe says. "Did you make my mom a hand tracing turkey too?"

"Just for that, you can go first, asshole."

"I'm thankful for friends and family that call me names on holidays. It brings warmth to my heart."

"Don't complain; you brought it on yourself. Sam, you're next."

Sam straightens. "I'm thankful for an excellent start to the school year, and the support of all of you fine people." He toasts them dramatically with his coffee.

"See," Ash says pointedly to Joe, "you can be funny and poignant, you knucklehead." He waves her off, laughing.

Garth is thankful for water, at the moment. Ash is thankful for some piece of equipment none of them know the purpose of but was totally instrumental in streamlining her brewing process because technobabble. Cas thanks them profusely for letting him into their family. Ellen is thankful that yet another fantastic meal has gone off without a hitch thanks to her son and Dean, and that she didn't have to do diddly for it.

Dean is last, and he knows what he has to say now. Cas gives him a smile from across the table, hopeful and supportive. "Uh…I….Well, I'm thankful for..."

Everyone but Sam knows what's coming, now. It doesn't help, the expectant looks from everyone at the table. Sam laughs, blithely unaware of the rest of the group's tension, "Well, spit it out, Dean, so we can get back to our pie."

"Shit," Dean mutters. "I'm… I'm thankful that I have a family that… supports me, no matter what. Even when they don't really agree with what I'm doing."

"What family are you talking about?" Joe asks. "Because it's not this one." He winces immediately afterwards, and reaches down to rub his shin again.

"So, uh. I'm thankful that, y'know, since it's the holidays, that my… boyfriend has encouraged me to come clean."

Silence reigns around the table. Even Sam knows that something's up now. "Your boyfriend?" he repeats. "I didn't know you had a boyfriend."

"That's because it's Cas," Dean says. "Cas and I are dating."

The room holds its breath, watching Sam.

Garth bursts out, "Thank God that's out now. I keep walking in on them." He doesn't react to Ash jabbing her elbow into his ribs. "In their office, behind the humanities building, in the bathroom like five minutes ago."

"Garth shut up," Sam snaps. Belatedly realizing that he's actually speaking out loud, Garth subsides. The silence that falls now is heavy and ominous. Sam leans forward, lacing his fingers together tightly and examining them carefully to remain calm. "You're dating."

"Yes."

"After everything I said."

"Yeah."

"After every other time you've done this."

"Sam, it's not like that this time."

"Bullshit!" Sam bellows, slamming his fist on the table. Garth whimpers and shrinks against Ash. "You say that every time. I came here on the condition that you wouldn't do this to me again!"

"Sammy, I swear, it's different," Dean says desperately.

"Sam," Cas says, "your brother isn't wholly to blame. I was aware of this rule as well, and I also broke it."

"No, you didn't swear to me," Sam says, his eyes still on his brother. "You didn't swear to control yourself this time. You didn't swear that you had changed. You didn't swear on your life to stay out of my professors' pants."

Dean flinches. "Sam…"

"Save it, Dean. You know what? I'm thankful, too. I'm thankful I know how shitty of a brother you are, once and for all." Sam storms out, snatching his coat from the rack on the way.

Dean stares fixedly at his plate, battling tears. Cas watches him, feeling useless and guilty for forcing Dean to do this. In the back of his mind, he knows that it's for the best, and that it will all blow over. But right now, the look of heartbreak on Dean's face is making that hard to believe.

Joe reaches tentatively to touch Dean's shoulder. Dean bats his hand away and stands, storming after his brother. Cas starts to follow, but Ellen puts her hand on his arm. "Don't," she advises. "They need to shout at each other, and it'll only make it worse if you're there too."

"He needs me," Cas says.

"He'll need you after, too," she says. "Everyone finish your pie."

#

"Sam, wait."

"No, Dean. Go away."

"Sam, please, will you just listen to me?"

Sam whirls around, and it almost relieves Dean that he has tears in his eyes too. "Why?" he shouts. "I listened when you lied to me about not going near my professors, and look where that got me!"

"I didn't mean to lie, Sam, but Cas….." His heart is pounding—fighting with his brother and confronting exactly what he feels for Cas is far too much right now. He brushes exact terminology aside. "Cas is different. Cas is wonderful and I don't really get why he's interested in me but I'm fucking ecstatic that he is. I'm trying to do it right this time. We're not just screwing around."

"Then why didn't you tell me?"

"Because I knew this is how you would react."

"That's not an excuse!"

"Jesus, Sam! I wanted to actually enjoy this with him," Dean snaps. "I wanted to feel whatever I wanted to about him without having to deal with you on my back all the time. We needed to get to know each other, and once we did it actually kind of works."

Sam laughs hollowly, looking anywhere but Dean's face. "Right, well I'm sorry to interfere on your couple time with my totally valid academic concerns."

"Sam, come on, that's not what I mean. He's already talked about going to the department chair to discuss what he needs to do to keep this from affecting you."

"No, this isn't about Cas, Dean. This is about you, and the fact that you put your need for sexual gratification before my needs."

Dean steps back, his head reeling almost as badly as if Sam had just punched him. "That's not all this is. This is actually really good for me. And I am trying my damnedest to keep it from affecting you or your degree. But my need, right now? My need is for you to be happy for me. Please."

Sam rubs his hands over his face and runs them back through his hair. "Don't ask me for that, right now."

Dean looks down at his feet. "Okay. I can stay with Cas for a few days if that's what—"

"Do whatever you want, Dean. Clearly that's what you're going to do anyway."

Sam turns and walks away from him, leaving Dean shivering in the cold. He waits for a few minutes until the worst of the tears have passed, and heads back into the Roadhouse. Everyone turns to him in the midst of clearing the table.

"Jesus," Cas breathes, crossing the room in long strides and wrapping his arms around Dean. "Dean, I'm sorry."

Dean buries his face in Cas's neck, struggling to hold back tears.

"It'll get better, Dean. He loves you; he'll come around."

Dean's hands tighten in Cas's shirt. The comforting somehow makes it worse. "Stop, Cas," he begs.

"Come on. You're coming home with me." Keeping a tight hold on Dean's hand, he steps away to retrieve their coats. He even gives Dean a small smile. "Remember, there's pie at my place."

Dean nearly drowns in the wave of gratitude—that Cas understands, that he didn't even have to ask if he could stay. He squeezes Cas's hand and manages a shaky smile of his own to the rest of his friends. "Sorry, guys. Happy Thanksgiving."

A weak chorus of "Happy Thanksgiving" follows them out into the cold.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter Eleven (or that time Sam and Dean were the worst at being mad at each other)

Dean is unbearable after the fight with Sam and it doesn't seem to be waning even by the time Sunday rolls around. Cas thought it wouldn't be so bad having a sad Dean around. They have really passionate depression sex, but mostly Dean was just depressed. He didn't want to do anything except drink and watch movies on his laptop without leaving Cas's bed.

Halfway through their fourth viewing of Legally Blonde, Cas is about ready to crack.

"You know there's a sequel, right?" Cas mumbles. Dean has the laptop propped up on his knees and Cas is trying to read because he doesn't think he can look at Reese Witherspoon's face anymore without exploding.

"No there isn't," Dean says. Cas opens his mouth to argue, but Dean glares at him. "Cas, there was never a sequel and there was never a musical. This movie on its own is a work of fucking art and any attempt to recreate this perfection would not only be impossible, but borderline blasphemy."

He punctuates his speech with a swig from the bottle of Jack he's taken to keeping by the bed. Cas tried to get him to at least keep it to Scotch Whiskey, but Dean insisted on drinking what his dad drank and Cas really didn't want to get in the middle of all that bullshit.

"Jesus fucking Christ," Cas says under his breath.

"Don't pull any of your Damon shit on me thinking I'll find it cute," says Dean. He does find it cute, but Cas insisted on marring the name of Elle Woods and he can't give in.

"Matt Damon is from Cambridge," Cas says. "It's not even the same place."

"Whatever." Dean turns up the volume on the laptop.

Cas sighs and gets out of the bed. The nice thing about Dean being so depressed that they haven't done anything in days is that they've both been in sweatpants and t-shirts and Cas doesn't think he's been this comfortable since college. As he reties the drawstring on his pants there's a knock at the door. Dean doesn't even act like he heard the knock so Cas reluctantly goes to answer it.

Unsurprisingly it's Sam. His broad, but hunched shoulders fill the doorway and he's got his hands in his pockets, but he doesn't back down from looking Cas directly in the eye.

"Is Dean here?" he asks.

"Sam-," Cas starts, but Sam cuts him off.

"I really want to talk to my brother first."

Cas nods and opens the door all the way to let Sam inside. Dean is already moving, closing the laptop and getting out of bed. His sweatpants are slung low around his hips and he stretches, his t-shirt riding up to reveal some skin and Cas is a little amazed at how sexy it still is. Even with Dean in his bed nonstop for the last few days, he gets a thrill at seeing his skin, or watching the way his lips purse, his forehead and freckles wrinkling at seeing Sam.

"I'm still mad at you," Sam says and Cas doesn't think it's the best way to start a conversation, but he's in no position to say anything.

Dean shrugs, staring at the floor with his arms crossed. He looks like a little kid knowing that he's wrong and trying to act like it doesn't faze him. "Fine."

"You realize why I'm mad right?" Sam asks.

"Yeah," Dean says. "But, you know, you didn't listen to me or anything. I told you, it's different this time."

Sam's eyes rest on the bottle of Jack by the bed. "Are you drunk?"

"It's not as bad as it looks," Cas says, hurriedly stepping forward to remove the bottle.

"Really, Dean?" Sam asks, ignoring Cas and focusing on his brother. "How is that supposed to show me this is any different?"

"I'm not drunk," Dean says. "I've been drinking, but I'm not drunk."

"Whatever." Sam turns back towards the door. "Sober up and come home and we'll talk then."

"Sam," Cas says, torn between the two of them. "You came all this way-."

"Please, Dr. Novak. This is our problem."

That's what sets Cas off. The two of them don't realize how alike they are. Both so stubborn and intent on clinging to what hurts.

"No, it's not," Cas says, rounding on Sam. Sam looks a little taken aback and Cas feels very short, but he keeps going. "It is not your problem because your brother has spent the last three days at my apartment feeling bad about himself and watching movies. I've dealt with this. And not only have I dealt with this, I am a part of our relationship. I know that you are angry that Dean was not completely truthful-."

"He lied to me. You lied to me."

"I know. I am sorry for that. But I do hope you think more of me than that I would let Dean's performance as a boyfriend, hurt your performance as a student."

"I'm not wrong to be mad," Sam says.

"No, but you are wrong to be so unforgiving."

"I'm not just fucking around this time, Sammy," Dean says, coming to put an arm around Cas. Cas leans against him, feeling the warmth of his chest and he hopes that they can be this comfortable all the time. "I promise."

Sam's eyes flick between the two of them. "Dean, you know that it's more than the grades and everything. That's what pisses me off. That you'd do this and feel guilty enough to lie to me about it in the first place. You wouldn't have lied if you thought it was right."

"I made a mistake," Dean says, sounding much more like an adult. He looks satisfyingly contrite about it too, which Cas thinks is a nice touch. "But I couldn't help myself. Look at him."

Dean smiles at Cas, who blushes bright red. Cas wants to say something back in kind, but half of him is too uncomfortable to flirt with Dean in front of Sam and the other part of him is just genuinely flustered by Dean's compliment.

"Honestly," Dean says. "No matter how hot your professors are, if it wasn't Cas I wouldn't have done this. I would have kept my promise. But I couldn't keep it for him, Sammy."

"You have the worst track record," Sam says. "That makes it kind of hard to believe you when you say that."

"I know."

"Look," Cas says, getting an idea. "What if Dean goes home-."

"You don't even want him here," Sam says with a little laugh.

"I do, but he needs to go to work. I'm saying, what if Dean goes home with you because it would be nice if he showered and had his own things. Then Wednesday night, none of us have anything, you can come over for dinner and see how well it actually works between the two of us. Obviously Dean will cook, but I'll make cookies or something."

Dean grins. "That's adorable. Come on, Sam, he makes cookies. None of your other professors did that. And we've been successfully dating for almost a month now and that never happened before either."

"You lied to me," Sam says.

"I know, but the fact of the matter is that I'm dating Cas and it's not going away. So it would be nice if you could be supportive because you like both of us and I promise that Cas won't give you a grade based on me. Though I'm sure that it would still be an A."

"B+," Cas says with a little shrug.

"What?"

"You're awful when you're depressed. It's been a tough few days."

"Whatever," Dean says. "Normally it would be an A."

Cas looks to Sam. "And I wouldn't grade you based on your brother. So it doesn't matter."

"I guess I'd rather you be dating Cas than someone I hated," Sam mumbles. "I still don't completely approve."

"That's fine," Cas says before Dean can open his mouth. "That's understandable."

#

On Wednesday Dean presses soft kisses to Cas's sternum. He wouldn't admit it out loud, but he's happy they told Sam. Even if it kind of blew up and he probably should have told Sam earlier, now he gets to spend as much time with Cas as he wants to without trying to come up with excuses. He gets to be with Cas on the middle of a Wednesday when neither of them have classes or meetings. They should be working on their own research or grading papers and they really meant to, but Dean put on these new tight jeans that hugged his ass so perfectly and Cas wore his Harvard t-shirt in such a sexy way that it was too hard to pass up a chance for sex.

Now that they're not rushed, not worried that Sam will call Dean and demand to know where he is, not trying to get in a date and sex and being with each other into a few hours, Dean can take his time. He can worship Cas like he wants to, kissing, biting, and licking every part of his body, memorizing it with his mouth.

Cas's breath hitches as Dean takes a nipple between his teeth gently. He teases it with his tongue as he rocks their hips together. Dean is still in jeans and a Zep t-shirt, that weird little necklace Sam gave him for Christmas one year hangs between them. He's wearing too many clothe, but this is about Cas. Cas is only wearing his boxers and Dean plans on getting rid of them as soon as he makes his way down from Cas's chest.

"Such a fuckin' tease," Cas says as Dean moves to the other nipple. He pinches it first and looks up at Cas with a little smile.

"Just let me take my time," Dean says and replaces his fingers with his lips. Cas tastes like sweat. He didn't get a chance to shower before Dean came over for lunch and grading...or what was supposed to be lunch and grading. He woke up late after spending most of the night on the phone with Dean. Dean had a meeting with the film club and had to stay at the university too late to come over.

Even phone sex with Dean was great.

"Can I just-," Cas mumbles, taking the hem of Dean's t-shirt and tugging it over his head. He runs his hands over Dean's chest. "There."

Dean leans down to press his lips to Cas's, knowing full well that he'll have to restart his journey down to Cas's cock and being just fine with that. Cas's tongue licks inside of Dean's mouth and his hands grab onto Dean's shoulders, his stubby fingernails biting into skin. Cas pushes his rock hard cock against the bulge barely concealed by Dean's jeans.

Dean lets his fingers trail town Cas's abdomen and sift through the coarse hair at the base of his stomach. He dips his hand inside of the waistband of Cas's boxers and wraps his digits around the base of that perfect cock.

Cas's hips push upwards against Dean. "Fuck, Dean. I thought you were taking your time."

Dean bites at Cas's lips. "I am. Don't worry."

Dean means to get down to Cas's cock with nips at his skin. He wants to stretch it out so that Cas is just about ready to come when he finally gets his lips around it. But Dean needs it now. He pushes himself down Cas's body and pulls off Cas's boxers, freeing his straining cock. He licks a stripe up the underside, his tongue following the thick vein and he sucks the tip between his lips.

Cas groans. "So good, Dean."

Dean knows he's good. He prides himself on his ability to suck dick and he loves it. He loves Cas's cock. He works down it until it hits the back of his throat and the door to Cas's apartment opens.

"Oh my fuckin' god!"

Dean scrambles off of Cas, getting tangled in the sheets and falls off the bed, hitting the wood floor hard.

"Jesus Christ!" Cas yells, wrapping a blanket around himself. "Balthazar! What are you doing?"

Dean looks up from the floor and around the bookcase at the blond man standing on the other side of the room. On the positive side it was such an alarming situation that his boner has completely subsided. On the less positive side Cas is still naked and Dean definitely has pre-come on his face.

"Why would you leave a key under the mat if you're banging in here?" Balthazar asks. He's carrying a duffle bag.

Cas wraps the blanket around himself even tighter. "I didn't expect anyone to come over on a Wednesday morning."

"Why are you having sex on a Wednesday morning?"

"Why not?"

Balthazar shrugs. "Can't fault that logic." He comes over to stand by the bookcase and looks at Dean who is still sitting on the floor. "Are you the professor Gabriel told us all about?"

"I'm Dean." He stands up and puts out his hand for Balthazar to shake, but Balthazar just looks at it, disgusted.

"Ew, no thanks, man. I know exactly where that's been."

"Yeah," Dean says. He looks to Cas. "I'm going to go wash my hands and then drown myself in your tub, okay?"

Cas just nods and Dean disappears into the bathroom.

"So that's the professor," Balthazar says as Cas pulls on pants and a t-shirt. "Gabe and Anna told me all about him. You know, Cassie, it hurts when you don't call me to tell me about your life."

Cas rolls his eyes. "It's not like you would call me to talk about your life."

Balthazar shrugs. "I guess not. So he's your whadda you queers call it... your life partner or some shit?"

"Boyfriend," Cas says, sitting down on the couch and he's joined by his brother. "Why are you here, Balthazar?"

Balthazar attempts a pathetic pout, but he just looks ridiculous instead. "You aren't happy to see me?"

"You aren't in trouble are you? You guys can't just use me as a fucking safe house, you know. I've got my own shit going on."

"Calm down, little buddy. Everything is fine. I really just wanted to get away from everything to do shit for work. It's just wicked fucking crazy in the bar all the time and I can't get anything done. I thought I'd come see you for a few days off. You won't even notice me."

"I think I will," Cas says as Dean reappears from the bathroom.

"Hey," Dean says. He's pulled on a t-shirt from the laundry basket. It's definitely one of Cas's because it's a little too tight, but in the best way possible. Dean sits down on the opposite couch, his legs apart and he rests his elbows on his knees. It might be an attempt to look as manly as possible to offset the cock he just had in his mouth.

"Hey," Balthazar says. "You, uh...Jesus Christ, I don't even know what to say to you."

Dean blushes. "Sorry."

"Don't apologize to him," Cas snaps and Dean looks a little alarmed. "He never told me he was coming."

"I'm your brother," Balthazar says, utterly unconcerned with his brother's glare. "I get to show up whenever the hell I want. You're welcome in my home whenever you need it, buddy. Anyway, Dean, it's nice to meet you. I've heard a lot about you from Gabe and Anna."

"I haven't met Anna yet."

"She and Cassie are like best friends. You're going to have to get used to it."

Dean shoots Cas a questioning look before saying, "Oh. So you're just here to visit?"

"Needed some time off."

"What do you do?" Dean asks aware that he wasn't supposed to ask Cas's family that. But he doesn't really know what else to talk about. He realizes with slight embarrassment that he doesn't actually know how to charm people unless he's hitting on them and, no matter how attractive Balthazar is, he is definitely not hitting on him.

"I own a bar in Back Bay," Balthazar says and Dean looks confused. "It's part of Boston."

"Cool. That must be great."

"It's busy. Keeps Gabriel employed, though." Balthazar pauses and his eyes narrow at Dean. "So, professor, what are your intentions towards my little brother?"

Dean splutters a little before says, "Intentions? Wait, are you going to threaten to kill me too?"

"Was that Gabriel?"

Dean nods.

"Oh, yeah, he does that. I mean, we _will_ kill you if you mess with Cas."

Cas groans. "Please stop."

"Calm it down, Cassie, I just want to know how much of this dork we'll be seeing."

"Why don't you talk to me about it?" Cas grumbles. "This is ridiculous. Dean, maybe you should just go."

Dean doesn't actually know what he did wrong, but he senses that Cas is angry with him. Maybe because he didn't have an answer for the intentions question right away, but it was kind of old fashioned and how was Dean supposed to answer that? He never thought things through. Yeah, right now he wanted to fucking marry Cas with the pie/sex combination, but he didn't even know how Cas felt. Dean never got this shit right anyway and he was trying with Cas and part of that meant not being too over the top about any of it.

Dean stands up. "I was going to do work anyway, I guess. Um, are we still planning on doing dinner, Cas?"

"Yes," Balthazar says.

Cas shakes his head. "Maybe we'd better stay in."

"I want to hang out with your friends," Balthazar whines. "Come on, Cassie. Be nice to me."

"It's cool," Dean says. "We planned this with Sam so it's not a big deal if Balthazar comes. Sam'll be happy to meet another one of your brothers."

Cas looks resigned. "Sure."

Dean pulls his stuff together and slides on his shoes and coat. Cas makes Balthazar wait inside as he lets himself into the hallway with Dean.

"I'm sorry," Cas says, grimacing.

Dean knows exactly why Cas is apologizing. He still says, "About what?"

"I didn't know he was coming," Cas says. "It's never...good when they just show up like this. And I thought we'd be able to spend the day together."

"It's okay," Dean says. "Finals are almost here and there will be other days."

Cas shrugs and it wrenches something inside of Dean. Why isn't Cas sure that there will be other days? Why doesn't he just automatically agree with Dean that next Wednesday they'll be in the same place, trying to work and banging instead?

Cas pulls on the front of Dean's coat and kisses him. "I'm looking forward to dinner."

Dean nods. "Yeah, me too."

He leaves and Cas lets himself back into his apartment. Balthazar has poured himself a glass of wine even though it's barely one and is seated on the couch, flipping through Dean's copy of GQ.

"So why are you really here?" Cas asks, sitting down and missing Dean already.

"Mom wanted me to check on you." Balthazar shrugs and doesn't look up from a detailed article on wing tipped shoes. "It wasn't like you to not come home for Thanksgiving."

"I didn't think it was that big of a deal."

"We just thought that it must be serious. You haven't skipped a holiday since what's-his-face."

Cas's expression darkens. "It just seemed easier to stay here and Dean and his brother invited me to join them. I thought that maybe I would invite them for Christmas."

"Both of them?"

"I can't just leave Sam here alone."

"Oh, right. Anna told me that everyone they love is dead. How depressing. You must love that."

"Easy to relate to," Cas says with a glare. "Why did you get recruited?"

"Because Gabriel needs to earn some fucking money. Anna and Mikey got the kids. Plus, we always knew I was your favorite."

"I really always liked Michael best."

"Mom wants you to move back to Boston."

"I just moved here. I'm not even that far."

"She's seventy," Balthazar says like Cas doesn't know how old his own mother is. "She's worried you're going to have some fabulous gay wedding, adopt a couple of babies from the Congo or Mongolia or something and then she'll be too old to come visit and you'll be too busy to see her. And then she'll die. You don't call her enough. You don't have to listen to her tell you how she's going to die without seeing all of her grandchildren."

"Everyone else is there."

"Which is exactly why you should be too."

Cas sighs and starts tidying the social area compulsively. "It's not even an option. I've got a two year contract here."

"People break contracts all the time."

"I'd have to look for a job. I like it here. I like being with Sam and Dean."

"We could use you," Balthazar says. "You're good for us."

"You'll all still be there when I look for another job in two years," Cas says, piling several old coffee mugs into the sink. "Not even. It's a year and a half now."

"You know us. We Novaks have a wicked high mortality rate. What if we're not?"

Cas leans against the sink and glares at his brother. "I'm not leaving right now. So you can stop. We'll see where I'm at in a year and a half."

"Is this because of Professor Sexy?" Balthazar asks.

Cas can't hide his smile. "I think he prefers Dr. Sexy."

"I'm so sorry. Are you staying here for him?"

"No. I'm staying here because I have to. Legally. But also if in a year and a half I'm still dating him then maybe he can come back to Boston with me."

"Look, Cassie." Balthazar rubs a hand over his face and sighs like he's saying something to Cas that he doesn't want to say. "You've kind of got this history of dating assholes. I mean, he seems cool, but they always seem cool and then they're jerks. They break your wittle heart, then you spend a week with mom wallowing in self pity and then you decide to bounce back by baking more than any of us can handle and you've done it time after time. I'm sorry if I'm not really counting on Deano being around in a year and a half. We're family. We'll be there."

"What about our high mortality rate?" Cas asks with a glare.

Balthazar sighs again. "Someone will be around."

"Dean's different," Cas says, firmly believing that Dean is different. "We're different for each other."

#

When Dean opens the door to the apartment, Ruby is sitting on the couch wearing Dean's favorite gray bathrobe and nothing else by the looks of it.

"Hey," Dean says. "Didn't know you would be here."

"I thought you were off having crazy illicit gay sex with Sam's professor," she says with a shrug. "I guess we were both wrong.

"Where's my brother?"

She smiles. "Resting."

"Sammy!" Dean shouts. He doesn't take take his eyes off Ruby. He doesn't trust her. He doesn't know what she'll do if he does leave her unsupervised, but he would bet money he'd be pissed.

"Sammy!" she mimics.

"Only I'm allowed to call him that."

Sam appears from his bedroom, buttoning up his pants.

"I thought you were going over to do work with Dr. Novak," Sam says, pulling on his t-shirt.

"I need to talk to you in private." Dean stares pointedly at Ruby.

"I'm sure Ruby can listen in," Sam says.

"No. She can't. I need to talk to you alone."

"What did you do?"

"I didn't do anything. I just need to talk to my little brother and I don't want to do it in front of her!"

Ruby stands up from the couch. "Don't worry, babe. I'll be in the bedroom." She pats Sam on the chest and walks away from them.

"Why are you such a jerk to her?" Sam asks.

"She's a bitch, bitch."

"You barely know her. You aren't exactly this ball of friendly person yourself."

"Whatever. Sammy. I need to talk to you."

"Yeah, fine. What about?"

"I was going down on Cas-."

"Oh hell no, Dean! I don't want to hear any of this. Letting you date him is one thing; hearing about your sexcapades is another thing entirely."

"His brother walked in!"

"Oh. That's awkward. Gabriel?"

"No, the other one. Balthazar. Weird fucking names."

Sam nods. "So what do you want me to do about it?"

"I invited him over for dinner, obviously. I wanted to make a good impression because I did such a shit job with Gabriel and he walks in and I've got his brother's fucking dick in my mouth!"

"Please stop. I don't need the visual aid."

"What would you do if you were me?"

"I would have him over for dinner because you asked him to and we were already planning on it. And I would keep it under control. I invited Ruby to join."

"Oh god, Balthazar is going to think that she's the type of person I keep around and he's going to tell the rest of their family and they're all going to hate me forever."

"Why are you being such a girl about this?"

"Because I fucking love Cas and he loves his family a lot so they have to love me. That's how actual dating works."

"You love him?"

"I guess. I don't know. I haven't told him. Jesus. Why are you pestering me, Sam? God. I'm going to take a nap and then I'm sending you and fucking Slut McGee out to Trader Joe's."

"Oh my god, you're becoming an old gay man."

"Shut up, bitch. I'm just stressed."

Dean goes into his bedroom and slams the door before throwing himself facedown on the bed like a three year old having a tantrum. He'll just make burgers or something. He'll make something good that Balthazar will be impressed by and then Cas will love him forever and ever and then he'll probably screw it up, but right now it's fine.

Not that he's going to tell Cas he loves him because how can Dean expect anyone to love him. Why would Cas love him? Even if he said something he'd probably be lying just to make Dean feel better.

"Oh my god," Dean groans and Bobby jumps down from the top of his bookshelf that isn't covered in books, but movies and into his bed. "I'm going to die alone. Even you won't be there, Bobby."

Bobby gives Dean a judgmental look, but curls up on top of his head anyway.

"Stop pitying me," Dean mumbles.


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12 (or that time we continued our theme of crazy family dinners)

Balthazar is, predictably, in sickeningly high spirits when they ring the Winchester's buzzer that night. Cas tries his best to ignore him, concentrating on balancing the plate of cookies he baked.

Dean opens the door almost immediately. Cas smiles, convinced that Dean was hovering on the other side of the door anxiously. "Hey," Cas says, feeling strangely shy.

"Hey, man," Dean mutters. "Hey, Balthazar."

"'Sup, Deano," Balthazar says, clapping Dean companionably on the shoulder as he pushes past him into the apartment. "Nice place."

Cas makes an apologetic face as he follows his brother in. "Sorry," he mutters.

Dean kisses him quickly. "Don't worry about it."

Sam steps out of the kitchen. "Hey, Castiel. And you must be Balthazar."

Balthazar peers up at him. "You must be the moose Gabriel told me about. Sam, was it?"

Sam's smile is resigned and crooked. "Yeah, I'm Sam. Anyone want a beer?"

"Yes," Dean and Cas say simultaneously, perhaps with too much enthusiasm.

"Oh, now don't tell me I'm stressing everyone out," Balthazar says, a hand over his heart dramatically.

Dean gives a forced laugh which does nothing to diffuse the tension. Balthazar raises his eyebrows in amusement, effectively silencing the room. Ruby finally appears from the bathroom and quips, "Well, ain't this a party. I'm Ruby, Sam's habitual dalliance."

"So, beer," Dean says loudly. He hurries into the kitchen for the minor relief of booze. Cas retreats to the couch.

Sam colors but still manages to roll his eyes. "Ruby, do you have to?"

She grins and pats his ass. Sam blushes and swats her hand away. "Oh, I'm not embarrassing you, am I?"

Balthazar turns to Cas. "Oh, I like her."

Sam rolls his eyes. "Okay, habitual dalliance, you wanna help me bring out the appetizers?"

"Fancy," Balthazar observes, flopping down onto the couch beside Cas. "How many courses are we looking at?"

Sam smiles crookedly as Dean appears carrying three beer bottles. "Not that fancy. Just burgers. Dean makes a mean burger."

Ruby waltzes purposefully close to Dean as she heads towards the kitchen. Dean's face twitches, trying to control his usual look of distaste when she's near him.

Sam pokes her in the side knowingly, and she laughs as she scampers ahead of him into the kitchen. "Anyone need a glass?" he calls over his shoulder.

Balthazar snorts and accepts a bottle from Dean. "Who do I look like, the fuckin' pope?"

"I don't think the pope drinks much beer," Cas mutters as Dean hands him a beer and sits on his other side.

"Maybe not Frank," Balthazar drawls, taking a swig. "But that German lizard pope totally did."

"You'd give Mom heart palpitations if you talked about the pope like that around her," Cas says.

"Luckily she's not around right now, eh, Cassie?"

Cas's face is so resolutely sour that Dean is suddenly more worried about his boyfriend's behavior than Balthazar's. Hesitantly, he puts his hand on Cas's knee. Less "I want you right now" than it usually is, and more of, "Hey, I'm right here." Cas relaxes minutely.

Feeling strangely encouraged by Cas's lack of control, Dean speaks up as Sam and Ruby come back into the living room, carrying chips and dip. "So, how's everyone back in Boston?" he asks. "We've only met Gabriel, but Cas has told me a little about the rest of you."

Balthazar groans. "Don't even get me started on Gabriel. If he weren't my brother I would have fired him ages ago. As it is, he's on thin ice. Only our mother's saintly intercessions have kept him employed."

"What about Anna and Michael?"

Balthazar shrugs. "Oh, they're as boring as ever. I've never been one for settling down. I'm more of a free spirit." He winks at Ruby, who grins and lounges against Sam. Dean reflects that if Sam rolls his eyes any harder, they're going to pop out of his skull. Honestly, he has no idea how Sam puts up with the woman.

"How are the kids doing?" Cas asks.

Balthazar shrugs. "Good, depending on who you ask. Mikey Jr. got suspended for telling a kid that he was going to kick his ass."

"Which of you taught him that phrase?" Cas asks.

"I'm offended that you would think it was someone other than me," Balthazar says. "Naomi was pretty pissed. Still, the kid's got a good heart. He was sticking up for a classmate."

"Ten for intent, seven for execution, then," Ruby says.

"Doesn't seem like language to suspend a kid over," Sam says. "How old is he?"

"Nine," Balthazar and Cas answer simultaneously.

Dean grins. "Sounds like us, right, Sammy?"

"Well it sounds like _you_," Sam mutters, his lips pinching with disapproval.

Dean shrugs nonchalantly and turns to Balthazar. "I was the problem child," he explains. "Sam was the little angel. Still, I couldn't very well let anyone mess with him, so I had to get mouthy with some hotshots."

"And who taught you your profane phrases?" Balthazar asks.

Cas's eyes widen in apprehension even before Dean says, "My dad."

"Sounds like your dad and I would have gotten along."

Dean highly doubts that John and Balthazar would have gotten along at all, but he nods his agreement vaguely. Slowly, the concern fades from Cas's eyes.

"So, habitual dalliance," Balthazar says to Ruby, "how do you know Moose and Squirrel, here?"

She shrugs. "Sam and I have a class together. And he started stalking me at the library."

"No I didn't!"

"Really? You're getting your PhD and you still need that much help with the Library of Congress call numbers?"

"They were mis-shelved," Sam mumbles, coloring.

"By you, probably," she says, ruffling his hair. "You're lucky you're hot, otherwise I would have ignored you. Or suggested you ask Becky."

"Don't be mean about Becky."

"I'm not being mean! She totally has a thing for you, though. You never would have gotten rid of her if you asked for help. She'd probably write your thesis for you if you asked nicely enough."

"He does freakishly good puppy-dog eyes," Dean points out. "It's weird. I swear it's mind control."

"I know!" Ruby groans. "He's 30 and whenever he looks at me it's like one of my nieces is asking me for a puppy."

It must be the coziness of having Cas nestled next to him, slowly curling further into him, that makes Dean actually realize how shitty he's been to Ruby. He doesn't know anything about her. Besides, Sam isn't usually an idiot about people, so he should probably cut them both some slack. "I didn't realize you had nieces. How many siblings do you have?"

"Just my sister Meg. She and her husband Emmanuel have three little girls. It's wall-to-wall Barbies."

"That's the opposite of Mikey's family," Balthazar says. "Naomi was holding out for a girl, but I think five boys is enough children running around. Besides, she knows what happens to girls born into families of boys. They end up weird like Anna."

"Naomi is a little intense," Cas says.

"And by a little intense, you mean she's a dictator," Balthazar corrects.

"Zar has always disliked her."

"Mike was way more fun before she got to him."

Cas rolls his eyes. "Yeah, now he has a steady job and regular work hours so he can come home and spend time with his family. What a horrible person to force him into that life."

Balthazar makes a retching sound. "Responsibility, gross."

They hang out for a while. Dean eventually gets up to start on the burgers. Ruby appears as he's flipping them, snagging some more beers from the fridge. He hopes that his smile doesn't seem too forced.

"So, you're going to be nice to me now?" she asks, opening a bottle for herself. "Or is it just because there's company over?"

Dean sighs. "Sorry about that. I'm protective of him."

She snorts. "No shit." She takes another swig, apparently waiting for him to elaborate on his apology.

Dean raises his eyebrows at her, but she only wiggles hers back at him. "Fine," he grumbles. "I figure if he can be supportive of my relationship, I should be supportive of yours."

This time she throws her head back and laughs. "I wouldn't call us a relationship."

"Well whatever the hell you guys are doing, I should support him in it."

"Is this the part where you threaten to kick my ass if I hurt his feelings?"

"Nah, he'll just give you the worst puppy dog eyes of your life," he says. "You'll have dreams about them. I don't need to do anything to add onto that."

"Shit, you're right. God damn dewy sensitive eyes," she grumbles, heading back out to distribute the beers.

Dean grins. Maybe she isn't so bad. Still absolutely an asshole, but he can't really judge people on that. If she makes Sam happy, that's really all he cares about.

Dinner passes without any disasters. Ruby and Balthazar succeed in making everyone uncomfortable in turn, but they all manage to laugh through it. The burgers are delicious. Cas threatens to make Dean cook for him more often. Dean blushes profusely, which just makes Cas want to smother him with kisses. He settles for a wink. Ruby laughs so hard that she has to escape into the bathroom to compose herself.

They're all helping themselves to the plates of Cas's chocolate chip cookies when Balthazar sudden looks at Dean, "So, you should come down for Christmas."

Dean nearly chokes on the cookie in his mouth. "What?" he gasps around crumbs

"Balthazar, what are you doing?" Cas snaps.

"What?" Balthazar says indignantly. "You said you wanted them to come."

"I do, but you shouldn't ask for me."

"Wait, you want me to come for Christmas?" Dean asks, having successfully cleared his throat.

"Yes. And you too, Sam. I wouldn't want you to be alone during the holidays."

Ruby stands up and announces, "Fuck this, I'm gonna go look for stronger booze in your kitchen." Sam watches her leave as if he really wishes he could escape into the kitchen too.

"You're serious?" Dean asks, his eyes glued on Cas.

"Of course I'm serious," Cas says, miffed. "Why on Earth would I joke about that to you?"

"It's hard to take Balthazar seriously," Sam says, shrugging.

"You wound me, Samuel. Where's your girl with the booze? I forgot how many feelings Cassie has." Cas basically growls, and Balthazar rolls his eyes. "Don't snarl at me, Castiel."

"Why must you all insist on meddling in my life?" Cas demands, his voice rising and edging back into his Boston accent. "I can't move away. I can't ask my boyfriend to Christmas on my own schedule. I can't do anything without you and Mom and everyone else fucking jumping all over me."

"Christ, Cas, calm down."

"No, I won't calm down! I thought moving away would teach you all how to let me live my life by myself, but apparently I was wrong."

"We're just watching out for you."

"I'm thirty-three!"

Balthazar groans. "And you can do whatever the fuck you want, but we're still going to be here."

"Be here less conspicuously," Cas snaps. He rises and storms into Dean's bedroom.

Sam and Dean exchange worried looks, but before Dean can follow Cas, Balthazar spears him with a look. "So are you coming for Christmas or what?"

"Uh. Yes? If he still wants me to, that is."

"He does, he's just being a crank. What about you, moose?"

"Yeah, of course. Dean, do you want to…?"

"Yep, going," Dean says, out of his seat before Sam even finishes speaking.

As he slips into his room, he can hear Ruby come back out to the dining room and ask, "So, how was the drama?"

"Give me the bourbon," Balthazar says, in answer.

Dean closes the door behind himself. His desk lamp is still on, half lighting the room. Cas is face down on Dean's bed and doesn't even look up when Dean enters. Dean lays down beside him without saying anything.

Eventually, Cas raises his head and gives Dean an apologetic look. "Sorry," he mumbles. "I ruined dinner."

"Don't worry, Ruby found the bourbon. Balthazar should be fine in a few minutes."

Cas slides closer and nuzzles his face into Dean's neck. "He's such a fucking asshole," he grumbles.

Dean strokes his back. "It's family's job to suck."

Cas looks up at him. "Can I tell you something?"

"Of course, Cas."

He takes a deep breath. "My family is kind of like the mob."

Dean stills beside him. "You what?"

Cas sits up, wringing his hands. "They're in the mob. I don't know any details, but the bar is some sort of front and—"

Dean sits up as well. "Jesus, Cas, like Whitey Bulger?"

Cas for a second goes from miserable to absolutely offended. "No. I mean, kind of, but I like to think my brothers are better than that bastard. Maybe not Raphael. But the rest of them. I don't think there's as much blood on Mikey's or Gabe's or Zar's hands."

"Why are you telling me this? I can't imagine Balthazar being too pleased with you telling me."

"I wanted you to know before you came for Christmas. If you want to come for Christmas, that is. I didn't want you to come and find out or figure it out or whatever and then be upset that I didn't tell you."

"I mean. Will like shit go down at Christmas?"

"Maybe not. But sometimes people show up and it's uncomfortable. I don't want you to ask questions when you shouldn't. And if you don't know what's going on you will."

"Holy shit, Cas. That's pretty fucking crazy."

"Yeah. I know."

"So, your brother, Raphael?"

"He got shot for a reason."

"And your dad?"

Cas just nods.

"Fuck, man. I'm sorry."

"That's the first time I've gotten that reaction," Cas says wryly.

"No, seriously, all those movie jokes I've been making. I feel like such an asshole."

"You didn't know."

Dean flops back down, pulling Cas with him. "Still, I feel like a shithead."

Cas resumes his earlier, eminently comfortable position. "My brother's the shithead tonight."

"Oh, good, then I'm off the hook for now."

"Just for tonight."

Dean shifts, sliding Cas's head from his chest and leaning over him. "Anything I can do to change your mind?" he asks innocently.

"Our brothers are in the next room," Cas reminds him.

"What are they going to do? Call the pope?" Dean leans down to kiss along Cas's jaw to nibble at his earlobe.

"Behave, Dean," Cas says, pushing weakly at his shoulders.

"Or what? Are you gonna spank me? I've never done that before, but I'm sure I could get into it." He works his way back to Cas's mouth and kisses him thoroughly. "Besides, I'm feeling particularly naughty."

Cas kisses him again, but shoves him off anyway. "I'm sure you are, but we need to prove to your brother that we're being adults about this, remember?"

"Lame," Dean grumbles. "I liked it better when you let me touch you inappropriately."

Cas turns back just before he reaches the door, pulling Dean into him. "Later," he breathes.

"Don't get breathy at me before we go into public, that's not fair," Dean protests.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Cas says, the breathiness in his voice only becoming more exaggerated.

"Now you just sound stupid. Get out of my room."

Cas grins and kisses him. It's another few minutes before they emerge and rejoin the others.

#

They go on cheesy, cliché dates: to the movies, to fancy restaurants, to museums. Cas even manages to get Dean on a long, sickeningly adorable walk through the park on a warmer day, when the nip in the air only makes them more eager to get inside and warm up. Dean still spends a lot of time at Cas's, if only because then they can make out with reckless abandon without having to worry about Sam coming in and getting testy and/or nauseated. Cas is back to spending a significant amount of time at the Winchesters' place, though. They manage to control themselves most of the time, though Sam does walk in on them groping each other in the kitchen once or twice.

Dean is shockingly, blindingly happy. The warm, contented feeling is starting to stick to him even when Cas isn't around. He even willingly praises Garth a few times. He's pretty sure the kid nearly cries. Even when he has shitty days, the thought of Cas—or, better yet, the feel of Cas—can reliably cheer him up.

Cas stomps into their office one night after one of his evening classes. It's the middle of December, and instead of snow they've been stuck with a bitter, mind (and everything else) numbing cold and a constant cloud cover. Dean is beginning to ponder the validity of seasonal affective disorder—something he previously dismissed as "bullshit"—given the utter moodiness of his boyfriend for the past week and a half.

"Hey," Dean says. Cas tries to smile at him, but mostly it's just a harried grimace. "Bad day?"

Cas groans. "I don't want to talk about it."

Dean shuffles his papers away and stands. "Okay," he says, starting to wrap his arms around Cas's waist from behind.

Cas pulls away. "Not right now, Dean. I'm very stressed out and—have you still not cleaned off your desk?" he snaps, glaring past Dean.

Dean looks over his shoulder at his sloppy desk. "That is clean. For me. You're one to talk, your apartment is never clean."

Cas stiffens, squaring his shoulders as if Dean just challenged him to a duel. "It doesn't help that my apartment for one person is suddenly housing two," he says.

Dean sighs and heads for the door. Cas droops, clearly worried he's gone too far, before Dean flicks the lock closed. "You want me to clean off my desk?" Dean asks. "I have some ideas on how we can do that."

Cas flounders for a moment. Dean can see hints of that sex maniac in his widely dilated eyes, but he's obviously still caught up in his tantrum about his day. "We're at work," he stammers, eventually.

Dean's grin is especially crooked. He knows what it does to Cas. It's similar to what Cas's accent does to him. "Correct, Dr. Novak."

Cas's eyes go from wide and alarmed to hooded and dark in about half a second. He looks at Dean like he wants to eat him.

"Take off your pants," Cas says. He's loosening his tie.

"Leave the tie on." Dean smirks.

Cas stops working on his tie and instead starts on the buttons of his white shirt. "Get naked and bend over the desk, Dr. Winchester."

"Anything you say, professor."

Dean tries not to undress too quickly. He wants to put on a little bit of a show. He toes off his shoes, then pulls off his socks. His pants come next, leaving him in a t-shirt and his black briefs. Cas's shirt is off, his tie still around his neck, and he has his hand in the open fly of his slacks, rubbing his hard cock.

"Hurry up," Cas breathes.

Dean stretches when he pulls his shirt over his head. He knows that the catch of Cas's breath is at the sight of his stomach muscles and the tip of his dick that's poking out of his briefs. Dean pulls off his underwear last. He takes his time slipping it down his legs for Cas to watch. Then he turns towards the desk and bends over.

Dean looks back just in time to see Cas pull out his own cock, then fall to his knees in front of Dean's ass. Dean moans as Cas kisses the back of his thighs and then bites his fleshy ass. He braces one arm on the desk, resting his head in the crook of his elbow and he bring his free hand down to jack his dick.

Cas licks into Dean's ass without warning and Dean's whole body shakes with his moan. He's so turned on his fucking fingers are tingling. Cas moans too, sending the vibration into Dean's ass as his tongue presses further.

Fingers join Cas's tongue. Fingers slick with spit and maybe some lube that Dean might've been keeping in his desk for occasions such as this one. The thought that Cas went through the drawers of his desk is strangely domestic feeling. It's nice in a comfortable and horrifying way. Doesn't matter though because Cas's fingers push into Dean's ass along with his tongue and nothing matters except them.

Cas slowly rises up to his feet, planting kisses along Dean's rigid spine. He sucks on each vertebrae as his hands run up Dean's thighs to his ribs, his tie dragging after the kisses and sucks and bites.

"Dean," Cas growls into Dean's ear and then takes the lobe between his teeth. "Want this to be the best fucking orgasm of your life."

"Let's see what you can do," Dean says. He takes his hand from his dick and wraps it in Cas's blue tie. He pulls Cas's lips down for a sloppy kiss. Cas inserts three fingers into Dean's ass without warning and Dean pushes back onto them. He doesn't need any prompting from Cas. He needs it, needs to get as much of Cas as he can inside of him, connected to him, fucking him.

Cas bites down on Dean's lower lip and pulls away slowly. He brings his body away from Dean, pulls his fingers from Dean's ass, but doesn't let go of his lip until he absolutely has to.

Dean is confused for a second. "What're you doing?"

"Fucking you."

Cas enters Dean in one long thrust that sends Dean so close to the edge of bliss and oblivion that he almost topples over. He presses his face back into the crook of his elbow, breathing deeply to calm his body down. Cas pulls out slowly before pushing in again even slower. He has one hand on the back of Dean's neck and another on his hip for leverage, but he stays slow.

"Cas," Dean whimpers into his arm. "Please. You have to go faster. Harder."

"I don't have to do anything. Don't worry Dean, you can come whenever you want to, but I'm going to take my time."

Cas's hand on Dean's thigh squeezes hard, his nails biting into Dean's skin as he leisurely fucks Dean back onto his cock. Dean's ass is so good, so tight even after all the fucking they do. And Cas knows that Dean couldn't have lasted the past four days without and orgasm. He knows Dean was lying in his bed, fucking himself onto his fingers or a vibrator, thinking about him.

Cas's hips snap forward. He can't help it. Thinking of Dean in any situation is a turn on for him. Thinking of Dean masturbating is pure pornography. The picture in his mind drives his hips forward again and Dean moans loudly. Dean's back arcs to meet Cas's stomach, pushing back against him.

"Cas." Dean's voice is strained like he's going to fucking cry. He'd be embarrassed by the girlishness of it all, but Cas just moans right back at him. The way Cas's name comes tumbling from Dean's lips is like a prayer. He begs and pleads for anything that Cas can give him.

Cas doesn't last as long as he wanted to. Dean's orgasm comes first and his ass convulsing around Cas's cock sends Cas right over the edge. He pulls Dean against him, his fingers splayed on his come covered abs, pulling him tight and biting into his shoulder.

Dean's knees collapse and they fall back into the scratchy university rug.

"Fuck," Cas says and Dean pulls him close so they can make an honest attempt at kissing.

"Agreed."

#

"Dr. Winchester, we need to finalize your final exam soon," Garth says to him the next morning on their way to class. "The students have already started asking about it."

"Really? They haven't said anything to me."

Garth shrugs, not meeting Dean's eyes. "They seem to think you'll ignore them."

"Well, probably."

Garth stops outside the lecture hall and shifts uncomfortably. Normally Dean would ignore him, but apparently being happy with someone makes you do crazy shit like care about everyone else's emotional state. "Are you alright, Garth?"

Garth turns a bright shade of fuchsia. "I was going to ask you about the final last night so we could at least have some type of answer for the class if they asked but when I went by your office-"

"Oh, God damn it, Garth, just stop."

"I'm sorry! It's not my fault! You were really loud!"

"Jesus, Garth, stop talking."

"You keep setting yourself up for these conversations, you know. I don't want to hear it any more than you want me to."

"Seriously, Garth, shut the fuck up. Everyone else would just keep their damn mouth shut about it and deal with the imagery themselves or in therapy or whatever."

Garth pales, his eyes unfocused and horrified.

"Fuck, you didn't even get to imagery, did you?"

"MOTHERFUCK IT BURNS," Garth shouts.

"You're an idiot. Go figure your shit out, I can handle the class."


End file.
